Ties, Chains, Claims and Saving Grace
by kuroren23
Summary: AU. Soul's past is coming out of the shadows to lay claim on the life he once threw away. Add to the mix a volatile partner, demented friends, a suspicious Papa, kidnappings, weddings and a curse to outlive all curses. What's a weapon to do? Soul x Maka.
1. Past the Point of No Return

Author's Note: Let us get this out of the way: SOUL EATER isn't mine and no amount of whining, wailing or crying would make it so. I am writing this fic because I got caught up in the charm of a cool kid and a bookworm. The idea that these two could be a match made in heaven inspires the romantic in me. I could only hope that every bookworm out there meets a cool dude for him or her. This fic is also written with a tone that nearer to my own reality. I confess to being terribly sarcastic but only with those close to me. I hope you will enjoy it. - kuroren23

11/12/10

For those that read this before the date that appears above, I am certain you will note some changes. I am re-working "Ties..." before continuing. Please excuse my selfishness.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

_**Past the point of no return...**_

_**No backward glances...**_

_**Our game of make believe are at an end . . .**_

_**Past all thought of "if" or "when"...**_

_**no use resisting...**_

_**abandon thought, **__**and let the dream descend . . .**_

_**beyond the point of no return...**_

_- The Phantom of the Opera_

_

* * *

_

**SOUL**

_Present Day…_

He looked out the window of the apartment he shared with his partner and resisted the uncommonly strong urge to hurl something—anything that's hard, heavy and solid enough to make it worth the effort he's burning to exert. He also had to consciously restrain himself from going on a rampage because it would cause no end to the worries his partner might suffer as well as the fact that it would certainly prove ultimately useless against his current cause for concern. That and the really annoying part is that he was certain it would only cost him money and that would cause him even more annoyance.

It irked him greatly to admit defeat. He knew that he was caught—and caught so neatly—in a plan so elaborate even he, with his twisted mind, could see no way out. He gave the offending harbinger of doom a glare filled with loathing. Had his eyes been made so as to shoot heated lasers he would've incinerated that foul message without a backward glance. He might still incinerate the blasted thing when he finds the time for it. For now he left the damning piece of paper on top of one of the many newspapers that littered the coffee table. The material would have to be enough insulation against the taint of distaste the nasty piece of material carried.

His personalized missive from hell came in the form of a thick, expensive vellum paper—the kind that would cost far more than most folks would make doing decent labor in an entire day. Soul knew for a fact that there were only two instances you would use that kind of paper: one, it is kind of stiff formal sheet used for things like invitations to State Assemblies when you're receiving awards or merits from some high-browed organization. The only other use of vellum is for those that believe that using it is a statement of worth—a badge of class.

In this case, he had a bad inkling that this particular missive came from the second type of vellum-user—the infamous Old Guard. The often unknown, though proudly held term for those that belong to moneyed background so old their cash should and did have mold on them. Only they would be crass enough to think an invite written on the expensive sheet would merit an unassailable acceptance.

He sincerely wished this one came from the first kind—for that he would endure the mandatory three hours of grandstanding and pompous speeches. But it took only one look at the emblem fixed upon red sealing wax to make him roar. It came from the one place he never wanted to remember or be reminded of.

The freaking communiqué came from home.

_**They finally found him.**_

_**

* * *

**_

_The Past…_

He was different. He didn't need anyone to tell him that. More that anyone else he knew he was different. **He was not normal. **In fact he was as far away from normal as it was possible to be while remaining within the same species. The human one.

His background couldn't have been more normal though. His humble beginnings could be an ad-campaign copy for normalcy. His parents were the poster kids for what should be expected from rich, educated, cultured people. Though he was born into a less than typical family he always knew there was something more—something really not quite ordinary about him. For one thing, he was born into an obscenely affluent family. Having been born with a literal "platinum spoon in his mouth" would ensure that he would never be "common". If you add to the fact that you were actually born with real platinum and diamond encrusted spoon in your mouth, it makes the image ten thousand times as worse. That one fact alone should've signed the death warrant regarding any notion of normalcy he could've entertained. As Fitzgerald put it—the rich are different. Too bad Fitzgerald never realized that he should have written that the very rich could be way beyond different—that and he never met the Evans' or any of their friends and associates.

The Evans Family came from the very finest stock of the moneyed elite. His parents were well-bred, well-meaning individuals who, had they been so inclined, could claim ties with the best families—the old money crowd that could trace their lineage down the Mayflower. They were the type that could trace generations of family member to such an extent that there exists an entire section in the local library dedicated solely to recording the extensive achievement and illustrious goings-on in the Evans family.

His father is a handsome, charming and wildly successful businessman who pursued his studies in all the right schools and graduated with the highest possible mark. He inherited the reins to their family's vast holdings and did what any heir would do—make it even more successful financially and socially ensuring that yet another generation of Evans flourishes in wealth and privilege.

His mother—beautiful, timeless and elegant as the harp that was she was known for remains capable in her chosen career as well as being wildly successful with her social functions. She ran the many homes of the Evans with effortless efficiency. She is a gracious woman acknowledged by all as one of the loveliest hostess to ever grace the famed Evans manor. Both his parents possessed the singular gift for music that was the stock-in trademark of any Evans—born or wed. And with the very obvious exception of the birth of their second child the two of them did precisely what was expected from someone of their social standing.

He had their honest affections and the care and nurturing presence of the family home as well as the indulgence of the finest servants and tutors money can afford. He was well adjusted as a child back then and received more than his fair share of love and affection. But he knew that he was very different from his warm, loving and terribly normal family. Their first child, his brother Wes, was an Evans through and through—suave, cultured, gifted in the one realm prized above all else by his family. Wes was the Evans heir—the glorious inheritor of their genius with music. His brother was a prodigy with the violin—playing as if he was born with it. He, on the other hand, was certainly not what they expected.

He has known THAT since he was just a tot. Something inside of him made him aware that he was made differently. For one thing, his looks were not what were expected from his parents' union. They being both handsome people, it was taken for granted that any offspring they would produce would have nothing short of stellar looks. In that sense, he was not a complete failure. He was a startlingly beautiful baby with a shock of pure white hair and delicate features. His lines were streamlined, promising a well-formed long lean body when he grew up. His hands were big and his fingers were long and elegantly shaped, as if destined for an artist or a musician. He was, in many ways, just like Wes. And just like him, his physical beauty gave way to the fact that he showed promise on the field of music as well. He played the piano with a singular skill that would have allowed him to make a career as a concert pianist had he been so inclined. But he hadn't the faintest desire for such a path. Indeed, his inclinations would take him farther away than any of them ever imagined.

His parents had to contend with his other "features" as well. The rest of his family were blessed with the distinctive cognac colored eyes—soft amber the exact shade of expensive whisky and pale ash-blonde hair. He however had pale soft hair the color of snow and piercing eyes the color of blood red rubies. His soft sweet smile also had the jarring effect of leaving visitors and onlookers gasping. Perhaps it was due to the presence of razor edged teeth that ripped more than one pacifier to shreds. But even with all these hints, his parents continued to believe that he would later grow up to be just another typical young multimillionaire, managing his estates and thinking of how to spend his inheritance and take his place in the musical world. His coloring was dismissed as simply startling, the issue of his teeth a matter for the orthodontists to resolve.

The truth, however, cannot stay buried for very long. The knowledge about his other qualities didn't come out in a rush. They came gradually, like the creeping tide or the shadows of night. There were a number of incidents that finally lead to his truth's unveiling. It began after he celebrated his first birthday. One of his mother's guests remarked that he seemed to be such a well-behaved little tot, hardly crying or making a fuss. Any other parent would beam and praise their child but his mother's smile faltered for the briefest of moments and tried to conceal the shock that went through her with that simple observation. Until that moment, his mother failed to realize that her baby never cried. No matter what happened, her son continued to be calm, content—cool. Indifferent and aloof in a way no child his age should be. He wasn't just quiet—he was intent and his eyes moved with a startling degree of perception. He didn't just look at the people around him—he watched them like a miniature predator watches a prey.

After that party his mother started staying with him, watching him more intently than ever before. That's when she and everyone else realized yet another quirk. He never got hurt. Hardly anything makes a mark on his seemingly impervious skin. His body was very resilient against wounds and stress. No matter how rough the play became or how dangerous the stunts he pulled—the results were always the same—he was left virtually unscathed. This particular trait was put into even more light one spring morning during his tenth year.

They were riding in the car one day when they were caught in a freak accident near one of the city's intersections. They were rear-ended by another car that lost traction on a particularly nasty spot of ice. His mother received scrapes and minor but his sole complaint was a small bruise and a single cut on his palm. It took two more days and a phone call from the mechanic repairing the mangled car to ram the truth far closer to home than either of them could realize.

* * *

_"You have reached the Evans residence. This is Cheery. May I know who's on the line please?"_

"_This is Zachariah Jones of Jones Bodywork. I'd like to speak with Mrs. Evans please. This is concerning the repairs for the Rolls Royce."_

"_One moment please. I shall transfer your call to the Madam."_

"_Thank you"._

**_CLICK_**

"_Hello?"_

"_Hello. Do I have Mrs. Evans on the line?"_

_"Ah yes, this is Mrs. Evans. How is the work coming along Mr. Jones?"_

_"Well, to tell you frankly madam, the cost of repairing the Rolls might not be as equitable as getting a new one. Unless you're hanging on to it for sentimental reasons? You see the entire rear of the car had been damaged to such a degree that replacing the entire body is the only solution. Your insurance company did reassure us they would be more than happy to replace the car."_

_"I suppose that would be for the best. I am only glad my son received no serious injury from the accident."_

_"Ah the young master was with you that day? How was he?"_

_"Oh just minor bruises and a long gash on his palm. Considering where he was at the time, it could've been a lot worse."_

_"Indeed. You said you were rear-ended by another car that slid on a nasty patch of snow that day?"_

_"Yes. It happened so fast it was all over before we even knew what had occurred. Thank the gods the rear of the car cushioned most of the impact."_

_"Yes, it did. I was wondering though, did the car hit an exposed pole or something? I mean did you hear the sound of metal screeching like it was being torn over or a puncturing sound?"_

_"Oh? I can't say I did. There was the shock of course but then the metallic sounds I heard must've been from the collision. Why do you ask Mr. Jones?"_

_"It's because of this one particular damage to the car that we've been trying to figure out. But our engineers said that in some extreme cases metal to pop a seam like that…something akin to metal stress slicing the sheet cleanly like a knife."_

_"There was a slash mark in the car?"_

_"Yes, there was Madam. Almost like someone punctured the sides with a huge metal knife. One of our technicians called it something like a scythe passing through, hooking that car like a skilled angler."_

_"I-I see…"_

_"Well, thanks for your time Mrs. Evans, and I will call again when the new car would be delivered."_

_"You have my thanks Mr. Jones. If you wouldn't mind my asking, sir, what side was the slash mark found?"_

_"Oh, it was on the door on the passenger side. I suppose if you were typically seated behind the chauffer, then it would be on the seat next to yours."_

_"Ah…I see…thanks ever so much Mr. Jones. I will wait for your call."_

_"Have a good day Mrs. Evans."_

_"You too."_

_

* * *

_

That incident proved to be the small crack that slowly eroded his mother's carefully constructed image of her son. She has always maintained that he was just more even tempered than most. His silence could be explained away by his serious and aloof nature. The car accident was unfortunate but it wasn't unusual. His wounds were easily explained by the doctors at the ER. But how does she explain the long slash on the side of the car? The same side where she tried to cover up her son to protect him from the force of another car slamming into them? The same side where her son clung to, unmoving and steady even when the car spun out of control?

For a time mother and son continued a delicate dance around the issue. The car was replaced, but with an entirely different model. The madam of the Evans house suddenly found a distinct and lasting distaste for the sight of a Rolls Royce. But their high wire dance was destined to snap at some point. And snap it did one day.

Revelation came in the form of a slashed up bed in the midst of a temper tantrum sprung when he was barely eight. A classmate made a casual remark that set his blood to boiling but the presence of teachers and the timely arrival of his chauffer prevented him from seeking retribution. He stormed into his room and in the heat of his anger a dark blade shot out of nowhere, causing his bed to topple in pieces. When he realized that the dark blade didn't come from some imagined place but rather his own body, more specifically his right arm, he opened his lips and uttered a scream that nearly shook their mansion to the ground.

The sound was enough to bring his parents, his brother, his grandparents and every single servant and guard into his room. Crammed as they were by the doorway, they only found a sobbing, wide–eyed Soul standing next to the ruined remains of his bed. It took his parents hours to calm him down and when he did, they told him the truth.

Or at least, what they thought and understood as the truth. According to the sketchy medical background the family doctors managed to put together at his parents behest he had inherited a heretofore recessive trait from the Evans line. It was a genetic quirk—the politest term they could coin to explain his anomaly. In essence they told him that his physical body was not limited to its current shape. They used a lot of complicated words…technical words and medical terms too verbose really to be used with a child and when they saw how quiet he has become; they tried a different tactic, using childish words stolen mostly from fairy books and cheap fantasy novels to convey the "magic" that he possessed. For a time he was tempted to tell them the truth behind his silence. He wanted to tell them that his silence wasn't due to his inability to understand. It was actually due to the fact that he understood all TOO well. But as he would be wont when he grew much older, Soul kept his silence. He knew that telling them their pretty words were wasted would hurt his family. He knew that they cared even if they have no idea what to do with him. After all he was literally a throwback. He confided to his brother that he wanted to find answers to what he was becoming. Wes—in his typical, laid back way, told him to do what he thought best. Soul did exactly that.

He left home after that incident deciding to ignore his family's advice to seek proper training from someone that understood cases like his. He knew, instinctively what they meant when they offered a haven for him to understand and cope with his quirk. It was no place he wanted to be in. That year he left the protection and luxury of the Evans Estate. He lived with his estranged grandfather who was the only member of his family who could recall another Evans with his particular "quirk". His grandfather was also the only member that resisted his parent's suggestion that he try and live a normal life and not dwell about what he is. He knew even then that by refusing to be confined in an institution of their choosing he had finally severed the ties that bound him to his family. When he told them that he had no intention of turning his back on what he is, he understood what it meant for all of them. He couldn't tell them what it felt like to finally know—he didn't have the words back then and he couldn't have found the courage to say what was in his heart.

And so he cut all connections from the Evans name. He stopped using it whenever people would ask for his name. He asked his grandfather where people like him studied and lived. His grandfather mentioned the name Death City. The old man also provided him with a new home and a lasting gift. A treasured, fully restored, gleaming with chrome fixture bike. It was the only time his grandfather would ever see him shell-shocked with the goofiest smile ever. That same look would not appear again for another ten years.

He lived the remainder of that summer and a few years after that with his grandfather, learning about how to control his temper and finding a means to channel the rages that sometimes cloud his visions. It didn't hurt that his grandfather's country home was situated near his chosen destination. And so he spent every moment he could with his grandparent, trying to understand as much as he could about what he was growing up to be, about the place he would soon call home. He also learned to channel his anger and the odd bouts of melancholy and voiceless despair through the ivory keys of the black baby grand that graced his temporary domicile. The dark music that spilled from his fingers helped exorcise the worst of the bitterness burning a hole inside him. The haunting tones provided succor he could not find anywhere else. It was a temporary relief from the darkness that claimed him, but it kept madness at bay.

When he bid his grandfather goodbye to pursue his chosen path, his parents weren't there to wish him well. They gave him material support and he was grateful for the Trust that they created for him. He knew that he couldn't fault them for not knowing how to deal with the guilt they must bear for his fate. He also knew that they could never understand how their child could be a throwback to some genetic oddity. To his parents, it was as if he HAD died in that accident. The son they knew never came home that day. The one that took their son's place was someone they could never—would never fully understand.

He wished he could tell them that throwback was too vague a term for what he was—what he was becoming. What he would be. After all, he understood perfectly well what he REALLY was. He was a living weapon.

_**Past the point of no return  
the final threshold, the bridge  
is crossed, so stand and watch it burn . . .**_


	2. Fools, Fights and Flawless Suits

Authors Note: SOUL EATER is not mine. Therefore, I am only borrowing them. 11/12/10-Editing. Trying to "tie up" loose ends and inconsistencies. Sorry for the long wait. I will work. Promise.

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**CHAPTER TWO**

_**Some say the world will end in fire,  
Some say in ice.  
From what I've tasted of desire  
I hold with those who favor fire.  
But if it had to perish twice,  
I think I know enough of hate  
To say that for destruction ice  
Is also great  
And would suffice.**_

_- Robert Frost_

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_

**DEATH THE KID**

_**Present Day **_

_The oblivious whelp was aiming to get his ass kicked and have it handed to him on a silver platter. Or in this case, carved, neatly sliced pieces of his ass on a blood-soaked hearse would be a more likely scenario. Honestly, some people were just born inconsiderate._

_**Present, two hours prior…**_

Death the Kid was an extremely gifted young Death God. He was in many ways, his father's pride and joy. He had many redeeming qualities such as his unswerving loyalty to peace and his trust in his father's rule for both the school he had established and the city he has guarded over many years. He was also known for his love for all things symmetrical and balanced. It was, in many ways, his sole passion besides being a Death God. Symmetry is as sacrosanct as the truth of life and death to him. The years after the war has afforded him even more skill and power. It didn't hurt that he was predicted to be one of the most powerful Death Gods to ever come along. He has also grown up to be quite a handsome young man with his dark hair, firm lean build and his distinctive golden eyes. He also possessed impeccable manners, quaint, courtly speech and his faultless wardrobe. He was, in the words of his twin weapons, a thoroughly hunky guy. He had no outstanding fault, apart from his obvious obsessive-compulsive nature against symmetrical issues. He was not, however, known for his firm grasp of human nature.

Humans baffle him, with their topsy-turvy emotions, random thoughts and their peculiar ways. But he has learned to tolerate and even care for some of them. Some were even his allies. A chosen few were his close friends. But it was no secret that he couldn't understand a great many of them. Even humans who were gifted to be weapons most of the time were beyond his comprehension. He understood the baser natures of man and the darkness that resides within all of them. He also knew that while great evil finds welcome roots within human hearts, they are also capable of greater good and even noble sacrifice. But what he could never understand no matter how he tried was how to untangle the knotty skein that was romance and relationship. Even with the counsel of his father, his professors, his friends and the combined effort of his weapons, the rationale behind it continues to baffle and elude him.

Take for example the little tableau that was playing right in front of his eyes. No need for godlike-powers to predict how this particular scene would play out. And from the eager look in his weapons eyes, he should've known. He was, at least sentient enough to know that he was looking at a disaster waiting to happen.

It all began during one of Shibusen's annual soirees that were held in honor of the peace treaty that existed all throughout the seven planes after the Great War. Representatives from different satellite schools of Shibusen mingled with the students and faculty of the main school in a healthy convivial atmosphere of good cheer. It was always a well-attended affair and tonight was no exception.

And it was with one of their honored guests that the trouble began. The incident started off innocuously enough, hardly the kind of thing that a young Death God would assume to be potentially problematic. A young man dressed in a white linen suit stood in the center of an admiring crowd. It was obvious that the young ladies of the academy would find this particular guest admirable. The young gentleman was blonde with a dashing haircut styled just so and his impeccable white suit decorated by nothing more than a single vivid red rose. It also didn't hurt his cause that he had clear cut features with a ready smile to highlight his baby-blue eyes. It was obvious to one and all that by the end of the day he would have garnered the affection of not a few of their female ranks. Laughter echoed all around this particular guest but an indefinable aura of tension also began to perfume the air.

With hindsight and years of first-hand experience, the young Death-God in training knew the day would not end well and that he had only the slimmest chance of rescuing the affair before it resembles a war zone. The problem, Kid realized with an irate sigh, was that the man chose the wrong female to try his charm on.

"That one would cause problems." Liz murmured beside him. Kid cast an inquiring look at his beloved weapon and waited for a more thorough explanation. The taller of the two sighed before giving the man in question a small nod.

"That one is looking for a prey."

"He doesn't seem all that dangerous and he is a student of another school of Shibusen. What danger could he pose?"

Liz gave Kid an amused smile before flicking his nose affectionately. "You're not the brightest bulb out there when it comes to human dynamics Kid, but you can't be that slow."

"Enough of the insults and get to the point. I don't have all day Liz."

"He's looking for a girl to play with. A pretty boy like that usually comes here either doubled up or with the intent of scoring a few with the local girls."

"Doubled up?"

"You need a lesson in street lingo Kid. You'll get lost if we have to go under cover. I meant someone that looks like that either comes with his own retinue of admirers, his own lady or he's hoping to get one by the end of the day."

"Explain now, lecture later."

"Yes boss." Liz fixed the man a look from her blue eyes and saw the tell-tale body language shift from charming to predatory when the young man's eyes landed on the graceful figure of a young woman casually entertaining another guest.

"He is a rather ambitious young man who would not think twice about stooping low enough to seduce a woman to get what he wants. Last I heard, he is studying furiously to become as close to a Death God in skill and power.'

"Fools. I wonder if the world is not filled with them. As if being born either technician or weapon would make them any closer to being a Death God."

"Well, we know that's not going to happen anytime soon. After all, how many Angel of Death can we produce in one lifetime? Or for that matter, how many Black Stars do you want running around the place?"

This time the smile that graced Liz's lips was answered by an equally amused one from her Meister. He took her arm and allowed her to guide him to a better position to assess the situation.

"Bite your tongue. Any more of Black Star's kind and I might go on retirement without ever taking up my father's post. Now, tell me what you have found about the young whelp that's about to give me problems."

"Your guest is checking out the crowds, he's looking for someone he thinks he can seduce and maybe play with while he is here. I heard he's looking to get himself transferred to the main branch in hopes of getting close to your father. And he's been ogling one girl in particular all night."

"Oh? And do we know which unlucky female it is? One of theirs? One of the others? Or one of ours?"

Liz looked up and titled her head to the side. Following the unobtrusive gesture with his eyes, he almost gave out a groan of despair. The young lady in question had soft brownish-blonde hair that flowed in a silken wave down to her hips. Clad in a demure but tasteful black wraparound dress and high-heeled sandals, she looked every inch the delicate maiden. Her deep emerald eyes shone with humor and good cheer as she chatted with those around her, oblivious to the leering stare the blond Adonis leveled her way. Liz tried not to laugh when she caught a figure, also in black, weaving his way carefully across the crowd. Whether his destination was the young woman or someone else could easily be noted, if you looked at his eyes close enough-his enraged, crimson eyes.

Kid wanted very much to dump the contents of his wineglass on someone's head and bash it in for good measure. Of the many females waiting with bated breath for the blond Adonis to cast his eyes on them, he had to pick HER. With an annoyed snort he cast a final despairing look at the white suit he wore for the event. His immaculate suit would definitely require a thorough cleaning. Idly he wondered if he should pen an apology to the director of the young whelp's school for sending one of their prized pupils in a pinewood box. After today, it was inevitable that the young man in question would later seek another institution—if not a whole other way of life. Death the Kid resisted the urge to sigh aloud. He could approach the man to give him fair warning but something tells him it would not be heeded.

The fool chose the Demon Scythes woman. He was a dead man walking. He just didn't know it yet.


	3. I am the Greatest

Authors Note: Well...here's another part. In typical BlackStar fashion I made his into a first-person POV because it does seem appropriate that he would tell his side of an event his way. Hope this still works.

a/n: 11/19/10-I wish desperately to add new chapters but re-reading these past work helps to show me what i need to fix first. forgive the delay. The creative process and my writing Muse is as temperamental as Kid on caffeine.

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**_I am the only person in the world I should like to know thoroughly._**

**_-Oscar Wilde_**

**_

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_**

**BLACK STAR POV**

What is with this shindig? There's too many people and none of them's paying attention to me! It's not right! I have to do something a bout it! I have to-!

_(stomach grumbling sounds)_

Fschk. I have to eat. All this is making me hungry! Tsubaki! Can you-?Oh…she went already. Great! Someone like me deserves someone who can read my thoughts and give me what I need before I even ask of it.

Ah Chrona there you are! Now, don't go rushing around like some frightened cat. They told you to come and learn how to mingle right? Well, here I am! No one could tech your better than the great Black Star! Right! I am the greatest! I am the best! I am the only Black Star!

Chrona? What are you looking at now? Just look at me and everything will be fine! Huh? You're looking at those idiots? Bleh…There are too many idiots in the world. I am so glad that I am **NOT** one of them. And truly, how could I even think of myself as one? I am Black Star! Idiocy is not for someone like me. It is for petty mortals but never for someone greater than even the Gods! A God-like being such as myself has no flaws! I am the best!

Now, I know what everyone thinks—that I am a loud, obnoxious, little wanna-be with less sense and even less of a chance in seven hells to become any better than a clown and a charlatan in the midst of all the serious pairs in Shibusen. Most folks in Death City believe that I am either an extreme whacko sprung from my eternally damned clan, in which case, their biases and prejudiced behavior towards me becomes more than justified. Does that ever bother me? Do I look like I am bothered? Of course not!Why should I let those things bother someone as great and invincible as I?

I am beyond such petty concerns! That is simply envy talking! I already know enough to expect such petty emotion! I am prepared to understand them. They cannot stand that such a supreme being as I exist! Jealousy is something I have learned long ago to ignore. It brings them some sort of comfort I think, and I cannot deny them their little joys, but that is nothing to me. I am already great and nothing they say will distract me from my goal to become greater than a god!

Ah? What? You are asking about Tsubaki? Well I know that! Can't you keep up with the conversation? Some uncharitable soul might even say that I have the smallest chance EVER in the history of Shibusen of making my weapon Tsubaki into a Death Scythe. They said that the day she becomes a Death Scythe through my efforts would be the day Death City would fall into ruin.

Hah! Only goes to show what they know. Tsubaki is the only one who ever understood me. The only one who never wavered in her belief in my strength and what it could accomplish. In my world there is only she. My stage might be the whole world, and the world should acknowledge only MY star—but there is no need for me to tell the world, or for that matter other idiots that Black Star holds only ONE star as his own. But that's not what I wanted to say and it's hardly the point since Tsubaki isn't even here right now.

Where is she? Why do you want to know? Do you have any idea how many idiots I had to punch through the walls for leaning too close? Who's the lame ass punk who wants to be the next one? Oh? Just asking huh? Well! Why didn't you say so! She said she wants to go and get me something to eat. That's what I love about her; she always feeds me and never minds that I eat a lot. Come to think about it she never eats much. But that's alright. Only means more for me!

Now, where were we? Oh, being a Meister and all that? No Meister has a soul greater than mine. I am the strongest soul in all of Shibusen. No warrior whose skills and strength is comparable to mine (_okay except Mifune, but he isn't included for obvious reasons and Maka isn't included either because I have never made claim to be able to see souls, mine and Tsubaki are the only ones I've ever cared about),_ no technician with more adept and masterful a weapon as I! I am the greatest! Because I am greater than anyone, greater than a god!

It is so tiring being so much better than a God. Too many fools line up to be beaten, hoping that they could beat someone as powerful as me. Really, these idiots should know better than think they could become someone better than one that defeated the Gods! Hah! There is only one person that could be like that because there is only one Black Star! All the rest, with a few notable exemptions of course, are just fools.

Take for example the fool standing way over there near Maka. Which one? Are you blind? My superior sight tells me exactly who! It's that pathetic looking dude with the pansy hair and dorky looking monkey suit. I mean I am not one to make fun of people that dress up but that's like for folks like Soul. That dude can dress up better than the mob...looks a lot like them too but that's just Soul. He has the touch when it comes to dressing sharp. That blonde fool however looks like some weird-ass doll's wussy boyfriend. I mean I'm sorry if I sound critical and the dude is appealing to some girls but just look at him! He looks so lame and weak-kinda reminds me of that freaky Excalibur dude. Now those two would be a match. Huh? Oh yeah the dude breathing down on Maka. Don't worry about him. He won't be around for much longer. Why? Because.

That fool would sooner or later find himself wiping the floor with his body after Soul gets through with him. All it would take is one look from those red eyes and any idiot with half a brain could see that the Demon Scythe is out for blood. I mean, can't they even sense his aura? And they have the gall to call me dense! If you ask me, Maka's the one that's dense. Soul's as clear as bells but that technician of his is blind as a bat and she can see souls too! What a waste. Speaking of waste, that idiot pretty boy's gonna be wasting a lot of time in a hospital if he doesn't smarten up and move away from Maka. More likely than not the blood would be staining the clothes of Kid himself. Now THAT would piss off the prissy little Death-dude more than anything.

I wonder if I should warn Kid that Soul has been in a foul mood since yesterday? Nah! I'm sure the symmetrical bastard would have figured it out for himself. He has two weapons to clue him in on the day to day occurrence in Shibusen, though come to think of it, why was he NOT assigned for guard duty tonight?

My stomach's rumbling…too much thinking. Time to find Tsubaki. I think I need food before the fireworks, or in this case, the bloodshed, ensues. Wonder if Kid finally remembered to put meat in the menu. Hey Chrona, you want anything? Really? Well, you haven't said anything there for a while. Sure you ok? AH here comes Tsubaki with food! You don't expect me to share now do you?


	4. Fates, Knaves and Rakehells

Authors Note: I am taking advantage of the fact that my brain actually works still and that my current writer's block is taking a short break. Hopefully I can manage a few more updates before my old enemy comes sneaking back. Many thanks to Daughty for the inspiration. Enjoy and please comment. Needs some feedback, please! *bows*

11/19/10: Editing. may find some changes or clarity. many Many thanks still.

* * *

_**Shadows fill an empty heart as love is fading, **_

_**from all the things that we are but are not saying.**_

_**Can we see beyond the scars and make it to the dawn? **_

_**Change the colors of the sky.**_

_**And open up to the ways you made me **_

_**feel alive, the ways I loved you.**_

_**For all the things that never died, **_

_**to make it through the night, love will find you.**_

_**

* * *

**_

**MAKA **

_The Past…_

Being born to a renowned technician was a burden for any child possessing the same gift for being attuned to another's soul…the soul of someone meant as a weapon. Maka Albarn was born to be a technician. Born from a mother who was gifted with Soul Perception and a father who is a Death Scythe—a completed and fully mastered Weapon—she was destined for a future already paved in blood and struggle. It was one she had been prepared for all her life and it was a path that she had always wanted for herself. Maka Albarn had no disillusions about her life or what she would be in the future.

But for all the things that came into the creation of her being, she was a remarkably sweet and innocent child—her heart was accepting of others and hardly ever caused any of her parents any problems. And until her parents finally settled their constant bickering with divorce citing irreconcilable difference, she thought that her life was perfect. But after she realized for the first time what divorce meant and what it entailed, nothing again was ever the same.

Like any other child she underwent her rebellious streak, finding the issues of her father's lack of faithfulness a hard issue to swallow. In her heart, she loved her father's affectionate nature and respected greatly her mother's accomplishment and skill. She couldn't reconcile the fact that her father could not care for mother as much as he professed to nor could he care for _**her**_ alone. That he was so weak-willed where women are concerned that he would sometimes forget that he was a married man.

With the divorce, she had to re-evaluate everything in her world. With the advent of age, she also had to make do with the realization that she will be destined to follow one of two paths—that of a Meister or a weapon. There was a test conducted when she was born but they meant less than a bunch of words to her at the time. Now they are telling her that she was to be like her mother—a Meister—a wielder of weapons. She was not to be like her father. But the truth was that Maka never saw her father as a weapon—to her, he was simply Papa—the man who cradled her in his arms and danced with her in the moonlight—the man that was married to her mom.

That she took after her mother in both looks and temperament and talent rather than her father cast a shadow of doubt in her heart that she could not reveal to anyone else. She feared—not just failing to live up to her mother's skill and reputation—not just in failing to find and turn her chosen weapon into a Death Scythe but in the young heart of the child Maka Albarn the seed of fear that any man she fell in love with would be destined to leave and betray her took root. If someone like her own gifted and beauteous mother cannot hold the affections forever of one man—what chance has she who is less than passing fair and had nothing but her courage to pave her way through life?

And so she devoted herself to the pursuit of knowledge. Her affections she showered freely to her books and her learning, believing that human relationships should take its proper place and context within the scheme of life. She would not actively search for companionship—if the fates think she deserves them, fate would find a way to bring people into her life. If she was meant to keep them, then fate would teach her how and she would study to learn the rest.

The only necessity in her life was finding a suitable weapon. Someone who would and could be molded in the fashion of Maka's choosing. Someone who will become the greatest weapon _**ever**_ in the history of Shibusen. More importantly, a weapon who will bear no resemblance of any kind to her lecherous rake hell of a father. She was determined to follow all but one aspect of her mother's triumph. She has no intention of loving the one who will become her weapon. She will not make herself vulnerable to anyone or any man. That path had nothing to offer he but pain and disappointment and she had already received that lesson.

Over the intervening years Maka has managed to fulfill her wish. She has found loyal and reliable friends. Her ability to forge ties has strengthened until it built the core of her being, becoming her own source of strength and determination. She has attained fame and a reputation that put her mother's in the shade and she also managed to turn her weapon into the greatest Scythe weapon ever to be wielded by a Death God or a technician. All in all, Maka Albarn fulfilled everything she sought to do. The only thing she failed at was keeping her heart well away from the one person that could literally rip it to shreds. Her only consolation was that the man in question hasn't got a clue and she prays every day that he never finds out.

* * *

**_Present…_**

_The blonde carbon-based tower dressed as a prince in designer couture was leaning far too closely again for it to be an accident. _

She resisted the urge to give vent to her annoyance and sigh. Though admittedly she was flattered when a known figure from another branch of Shibusen came forward expressing his admiration for her work, it didn't take long for the novelty of having a new acquaintance wore off and she noticed the predatory gleam in his cunning blue eyes. She wondered if there's a polite way to tell an honored guest that he was becoming a pest.

_Or that she wasn't THAT dense not to realize a cunning, manipulative nature when it's being displayed so prominently. Even without the aid of Soul Perception she could make a fairly accurate reading of the man attempting to flatter her._

The man was more than merely pretty, Maka would give him that. His attire was impeccably tailored and his mannerisms bore the unmistakable stamp of generations of affluent of breeding. That he was also the leader of his school's group was unmistakable as it was evident from the way he carried himself and the dismissive way he treated those around him. He was a self-important little tyrant-to-be. Used to being the center of attention. And that attention, it would seem, was about to be directed her way.

"Ah…as I live and breathe…I never thought I'd have the pleasure of meeting the infamous Angel of Death. And how it was possible that no one spoke of your beauty is more of a mystery than I could fathom."

The effusive greeting was more amusing than aggravating but only just. Still she managed the most polite smile she could muster for the occasion. "That may be because I have no beauty to speak of. Have we been introduced sir? I fear I haven't caught your name yet."

The shocked gleam in his eyes warned her that he would not be so easily dissuaded though none of it was discernible from the way he held such chagrined expression on his face "Forgive me dear lady! How remiss of me! In my excitement seeing one such as yourself, I have forgotten my manner. I am called Alastor Delacroix. I have come a great way in order to see Death City. And to see you, my dearest Angel of Death"

She attempted a different tact, allowing a slight coolness to enter her voice as she tried to extricate her hand from his large hands. "I see. I hope that you will enjoy your stay in Death City and its Maka Albarn actually. People don't normally refer to me by that silly moniker."

"Oh but it suits you very well…very well in deed…in every way dear mademoiselle…"

Though the blond hair and the classical features did not detract from his appeal it was his voice that held his audience enthralled. Maka noted the blank looks of the women around them—there was something eerily captivating about his voice and it was quite literally charming women to his side. It was no wonder that all the women within his immediate vicinity was swooning like maidens in some tawdry romance. But something about this very smooth-talking stranger alerted her senses and effectively prevented her from being charmed regardless of his flowery compliments.

_It would take more than a pretty face and a soothing voice to make me swoon, Casanova. It would take a sharp suit, a much sharper tongue and a skill to seduce a piano into singing to accomplish that._

"Is that so? Well, I hope that you'll see more of Death City before you leave then. If you would excuse me Mr. Delacroix, I have other matters to take care of."

"Ah please! Have I offended you? I beg forgiveness. It is only that I am used to my more European counterparts—they, how do I put it—take things that I say in their stride. Please, will you accompany me a bit longer? I have many questions about the difference and similarities within our school systems."

Mollified somewhat that her tactics seemed to be finally working; Maka decided to stay for a few more minutes hoping that her initial impression on their foreign guest was a simple over reaction. However when she caught the way his blue eyes traced the lines of her form as it was encased in the black velvet dress she wore for the night, she wanted to smack her sense of responsibility and dump the randy twerp. Hoping some enterprising female would steal her unwanted partner, she cast furtive glances, wishing to spot someone who could be coaxed to relieve her of her less than warranted escort but alas, Kid was too far away and it would hardly do to simply turn her back on a guest and cause a scene that would put Shibusen in danger of bad publicity.

_Oh where was Blair when you need her?_ she thought desperately. _If ever a girl needed a distraction now would be the perfect time. I need someone to remove this leech next to me before I cut off parts that I'm sure can't be sutured back._

When the man's hand brushed against her back once more to grip her arm, Maka thought that it was a good thing she was born with lots of practice for handling men with less sense than a desert cactus and nary a tendency to deck guests into the next century even when they are behaving like lecherous rakes. She almost sighed out loud when she caught sight of the busty cat and raised her hand. She smiled and pointed to the man next to her and was happy when Blair started weaving her way towards them allowing Maka to finally relax.

_Just one more minute. And I'll be free…thank the gods…_

With a weary shake of her head she questioned her unlucky streak of attracting scoundrels to her side who wouldn't know what decency was if it bit them on their pompous ass as she plastered a polite smile on her face and wished that the night was over. Take for example her rakehell of a father. Sure the man cared a great deal—okay he hovered more than anything—and sure he works as a Death Scythe or rather _**THE Death Scythe**_ for Shinigami-sama and over the years they have established a smoother relationship of sorts but how will she get over the fact that he would look at anything female with that lecherous looks in his eyes and find nothing wrong with it. The man would even go to the extent of ogling Blair! Imagine! Ogling a less than respectable cat who delights in assuming a human form in order to wear clothes that would look skimpy on a doll let alone a voluptuous human-like figure.

She exchanged a glance with Tsubaki who happened to stop by in order to get an ample supply of food to satisfy Black Star's appetite. Picking up on the subtle hints of irritation and despair in Maka's eyes, Tsubaki inclined her head gracefully; offering her assistance but Maka simply declined her head and gave her friend a sympathetic smile at the sight of Tsubaki's laden hands. She whispered into Tsubaki's ear that help was on the way and that Blair would be more than an adequate match for the Lothario next to her. Tusabki gave her one of her looks before making her own way back to the "her" idiot (a.k.a. Black Star).

Maka gave another sigh and tried to unobtrusively move, putting more space between herself and the tentacle like arms of their blond guest who thought she didn't have any more brains between her ears than a common gnat. When the knave in question only proceeded to lean forward even further, Maka lost patience and with a smooth side step managed to make the man stumble a couple of feet—saving enough space to allow the man NOT to plunge head first into the punchbowl and prayed while she was doing it that no one would noticed the little skirmish.

Especially not one snow-haired, ruby eyed black suited moody weapon who thinks she couldn't take care of herself whenever conditions like these arose. For once she was glad that Kid assigned her partner Soul out on security detail for this affair. Had Soul been within reach, the punchbowl would now be served as a catch bowl for the idiot's blood. Or any other part and bits and pieces Soul would leave for the security detail to find. That or the punch would've already been on the floor swirling with the blood that would be gushing out of her lewd impetuous guest.

Her long-time roommate and best friend have steadily developed a streak of protectiveness that could rival her father's. What's worse is that while her father's fumbling attempts to protect her only led to the occasional embarrassing situation, Soul's answer to any threat to her person was decidedly lasting and masterful—and more than occasionally bloody. It's enough to make her hyper aware when it comes to stifling potentially dangerous situations like this one. And so when she felt the distinct and all too familiar thread of power caressing her nerves, she gave in to the impulse to cover her eyes with one hand and groan.

_So much for her wish to end the night on a pleasant note. This cannot be good._

Her father might be protective and prone to over react but Soul was very different. His instinct to guard wasn't just for show. He's bossy, dominating and just a tad over-protective. He's also very gung-ho about intruding on people's personal spaces or to be more precise members of the male species intruding upon HER personal space without his approval.

"Is there a valid reason for my finding your hand attached to my technician or are you deliberately waiting for me to remove it for you? I promise you I would be more than obliged to render the necessary service."

_Make that a little more on the icy, intimidating and scary as the sight of an unsheathed knife couldn't possibly be good._

_

* * *

_

_**The sun is breaking in your eyes to start a new day. **_

_**This broken heart can still survive with a touch of your grace. **_

_**Shadows fade into the light. I am by your side, where love will find you. **_

_**Now that we're here, now that we've come this far, just hold on.**_

_** There is nothing to fear, for I am right beside you. **_

_**For all my life, I am yours.**_


	5. Thoughts, Talks and Threats

Authors Note: As stated I am taking advantage of this window of opportunity to write. Thanks for the review. Pray that I manage to squeeze in more scenes.

* * *

**SOUL**

Soul was pissed.

It was annoying enough that his estranged family has the luck of the devil and found him. It was the idea that they couldn't wait to have him in their cold, clinging hands that they invaded the wall of silence he elected for nearly ten years. It was typical of his family to be so inconsiderate as to actually send the letter to HIS home--the only true home he has had since leaving behind his heritage.

It was enough that his technician worried over his brooding and was reluctant to force him to confess. Maka knew him well enough not to pester him when he was in one of his moods and this time, it wasn't just a simple temper tantrum over his own insecurities and hang ups. This one was something he couldn't and wouldn't discuss with anyone. On hindsight, it wasn't anything he wanted to discuss at all. As far as he was concerned he was no longer an Evans and he wasn't subject to any of the dictates of his bloodline.

As he lived and breathe he would never understand why a person like this one exists. The damn jerk look too much like some lame ass wussy doll dressed up by a freaked up drag queen—the kind that he trampled on cheerfully as a child. But while his face could be forgiven for being god-given or wealth-enhanced there was certainly something about him that Soul could not and would not forgive: touching Maka.

The fool was just begging to be maimed and not in the easy one swipe type of kill but the more involved and long drawn out variety. The kind that gives nightmares to the witness and certain hell to the one being subjected to it.

* * *

Soul first noticed the man's presence as he was doing the perimeter sweep for tonight's shindig. What with his mood being the way it has been since he received the damning notice from home, he knew better than anyone that he wasn't fit company for any affair—especially not one intended to foster good relationships with other people from the all corners of the globe with the clear intent on celebrating. It was a good thing he was assigned security detail rather than be forced to mingle with the guest. At worse, he would've been forced to play as part of entertainment for the night.

When the blond started gathering a crowd around him, Soul labeled him as the typical eye-candy for some of the women out that night and dismissed him from his immediate concern. Though he kept tabs on the people that circulated the room in their usual languid manner, his senses were attuned to the ones who moved in seemingly random fashion, the ones that looked like they were trying to hard to blend in and more so disappear within the fringes of the crowd. It helped a great deal when he noticed that Black Star was somewhere in the center of the room. His immense power made sure that any unusual spikes in energy would not be concealed by Black Star's own. Any surge would come from someone and somewhere other than Black Star's immediate vicinity.

He was about to do another sweep when his eyes caught the faintest shimmer of honey gold against black velvet. With his senses tingling like they've been caressed with silk, he turned to scan the crowd for one familiar face in particular and found his languorous stride grind to a halt. Some empty headed blond was leaning too close to a young woman. A very familiar blond he already labeled earlier in the night as wimpy He-Barbie was trailing his large, all-too-friendly hand down a lady's back—a honey blonde young woman wearing a familiar looking black velvet dress he swear he saw much earlier being twirled in front of him. When the young woman in question tried to move as discreetly as possible from another sweep of the creepazoid's hand, the lights illuminated her delicate profile and the light of battle in her unmistakable emerald eyes.

Soul felt his blood surge in away that in anyone else would be fatal. Had anyone else with soul perception been near him at the time they might have been tempted to run away screaming. The blood pounding in his veins grew hotter as his irritation grew until he realized that his body had already started moving. He tried to rein in as much of the naked fury in his face even as he wondered if his current state was simply a carry over resulting from his ire over the missive he recently received. He didn't think he was prone to displaying his formidable temper every single instance he grew annoyed but something was definitely off and it's steadily getting worse as time progressed. And for some reason, his heretofore unknown temper would only surface whenever she was involved. Soul knows he should address that problem soon but at the moment he has other concerns. Namely the destruction of one horny, drooling, leery-eyed pretty-boy who thinks he could just put his clammy hand on whomever he pleases. It would be a clear failure on his part as security if he fails to remind their guests of proper behavior while mingling with other people.

Soul allowed a smile to grace his feature, laughing softly as people trampled all over each other to get out of his way as quickly as humanly possible at the sight of his gleaming teeth displayed in all their glory. Black Star was right. Nothing like a little work out to clear the mind and get ones perspective back in order.

* * *

**KID**

He knew the folly of trying to stop an enraged human. Being on the end of every one of Black Star's many and varied challenges whenever the mood would hit the hyperactive ninja, he has grown accustomed to the necessity of stopping someone bent on destruction before they go overboard.

This time around he would not be stopping Black Star whose penchant for physical combat was legendary and was known to cause much damage to the beautiful symmetry of Shibusen. His opponent would be a more cunning and all too unpredictable Soul Eater.

While battling energetic battle bunnies like Black Star leaves on physically drained and hurting from over exhaustion, battling Soul took on a very different edge—pun intended. The man was lethally sharp and that was just as he was—as a weapon, he was a truly formidable opponent. And now that he was on a warpath, he was on a whole new different level of danger.

"Soul."

"I won't get too close to me right now Kid. I have business to deal with. Don't worry; I'll go back to my security detail as soon as I straighten things out."

"Soul, I think she could handle the problem. It's not like Maka can't—"

The smile that slashed across his lips caused a man nearby to scamper off with a whimper making him wince at the idea that soon more people would notice the walking time bomb by his side.

"Oh so it was her. I wasn't quite sure you see. I mean blond hair and green eyes aren't all that unusual. Thanks for clarifying the matter Kid. I'd hate to decapitate someone for no apparent reason or worse for the wrong reason."

"Don't give me that. You would know it was Maka even if I blindfolded you and placed her in the middle of a rioting throng. However I must insist that you desist from this enterprise. We have guests all around. You can't cause a scene."

"I promise Kid. There won't be a scene. I'll just go there, say hi to Maka and escort her away from the big guy. I think he's making her uncomfortable and she never liked sharing personal space with guys."

"You mean guys who aren't you."

He didn't know honestly at that moment whether he should be happy with the pleased gleam in Soul's crimson eyes but it was the amusement in the weapon's voice that made the tension that gripped him a moment ago ease a bit.

"The great thing about you Kid is that unlike Black Star you get it in one."

Kid snorted and resisted the honest urge to hit the man for being both amusing and to the point.

"While I am flattered to be above Black Star in your esteem over my intellect, the point of comparison however seems a bit skewed. However, Soul the matter remains I can not let you mangle a guy for leaning too close to your technician. It simply isn't done."

"I wasn't aware that I was asking for permission Kid. As far as my technician is concerned—that makes my concern only all the more necessary, since after all I am HER weapon, isn't that right Kid?"

"Soul--! Wait one moment! You can't do that!"

When he turned, at that moment Kid wondered if he has overstepped his bounds. Gone was the affable air and casual manners that marked his usual "cool" type attitude. In its place was the image he has taken for granted that he will never see outside of an actual battlefield—the reality they who dwell in Shibusen has gotten so used to that it took him a moment—only a moment—but that was long enough—the true face of a living weapon on the verge of unleashing an attack. When Soul spoke, the words delivered were soft and to the point as a drawn knife's edge and twice as sharp.

"It would be no hardship for me to give cause for my moniker Reaper. Surely you are not telling me to give a demonstration here."

"She is in no harm. You have no reason to display such a threatening air. This event is to foster peace amongst our comrades. The man is a guest." The softness and conviction in his tone did much to soothe Soul's frayed nerves and when he spoke next, Kid had to blink. It was as if he imagined the earlier ferocity in his friend's voice. When Soul spoke it was like nothing happened.

"Kid. Maka is my technician. As a rule I don't allow ANYONE to touch my technician without her express permission. And as far as I can tell—that big bag of soon-to-be broken bones didn't receive that permission."

"If you spill even a drop of blood I will punish you."

"Fine."

"Aren't you even going to ask with what?"

"Hit me with the worst thing you can think of."

"I will. And Soul?"

"Kid, I'm on a tight schedule here."

"I just wanted to remind you--I need to return every guest--including lecherous idiotic ones--the same way their schools and offices sent them."

"Gotcha. I can roughen them up and rattle their cages but I need to leave the important bits and pieces in tact, right?"

"You are incorrigible. Do what you want just remember that I will be here thinking of a suitable punishment."

"Believe me nothing you can dish out would make me blink. I've lived with Maka-chops for nearly a decade dude."

"Good point. Rescue the idiot before he suffers from brain damage."

"Roger that Boss."


	6. Conspiracies of Chops and Canons

Authors Note: Many thanks to those that read and reviewed. The magic still holds and I am praying it decides to stay for a little while longer. Enjoy.

* * *

**MAKA POV  
**

It's a good thing we both wear a lot of black and I have a strong reticence for light colored fabrics or I'll be forever washing off stains of blood from my clothes. As for my partner, he managed to do all that damage without even getting a single strand of hair out of place and without so much as a single wrinkle on his always impeccably turned out suit.

Life is simply not fair.

* * *

_A few hours before…_

"_Is there a valid reason for my finding your hand attached to my technician or are you deliberately waiting for me to remove it for you? I promise you I would be more than obliged to render the necessary service."_

The voice that spoke behind me caused ripples of awareness to spread all over me but that wasn't unusual. Ever since the day he played his music, his sinfully evocative music for me, there hasn't been a single day when I wasn't made aware of his ability to heighten my senses. Even on the worst of my hunting days as a student, there has been nothing as comforting or as soothing to my frayed nerves as the sound of his voice.

Even now, even when the threat of violence is hardly concealed beneath the thinnest veneer of civility I couldn't help but wonder at the wholly inexplicable peace that settled within me at the sound of his approach. As always with my chosen weapon, his tread was nearly soundless, his move smoothly gliding between one obstruction and another. But no matter how quietly he moved or how stealthily he covered his tracks, I would always know where he was at any given time. With him soul perception becomes a matter of instinct—as normal as breathing.

Now as I sensed him closing the distance between us I felt the odd surges of energy in him, spikes in the usually serene pool of his self control. Something warned me that I wasn't very lucky when I wished that people would fail to notice my little dilemma. Had it been any other person, I would not have due cause for concern. But this was Soul, my destined partner—my "cool guy " of a weapon. If there was one thing guaranteed to strip my partner of his laid-back attitude towards situation, it was the notion of threat directed my way.

I watched as he skillfully evaded the glittering, chattering throng of guests and revelers, moving through them like some graceful dancer navigating the crowd with barely any need for his expensive customary black suit to brush against another. Next to the always elegantly attired Kid, their sartorial tastes seemed to declare that they were a cut above those around him. Once I teased him that he was more "suave" than "cool". I would never forget the surprised gleam in those unforgettable crimson eyes. The way he moved now proved my assumption then to be more than accurate.

My irate, too-lazy-to-be-bothered weapon was now certifiably on a whole new level of "cool". Too bad he was was so thoroughly pissed as hell that he could not care less if he flashed his scarlet eyes with their message of doom and destruction clear across the ballroom with nary a sign of reticence or reservation.

* * *

**SOUL POV  
**

The idiot was more annoying up close than I initially thought. It took me barely five seconds of standing next to the scumbag before deciding to throw Kid's caution to the wind and formulate the most efficient way of separating this piece of trash into the most number of pieces.

"I say, who are you and why in the world are you interrupting our private conversation?"

"Security." I murmured quietly, circling around him in an offhand, indolent manner before standing next to my technician with barely a smirk and my hands kept strictly in my pocket.

"Security?" came the unbelieving mutter followed by a distinctly derisive snort. "Is that so?"

"That it is." I assented watching as the fool with blond curls preen like a roasting turkey and gave my appearance a quick sweep with his weak, cruel blue eyes.

"Ah…here lies the problem with hired help. Never really learning to stay in their place. I suppose it is up to me to teach a lowborn fool their proper place. Especially when they take it upon themselves to concern themselves with my business."

The moment the words were out of his lips I knew she would not be able to resist. If there's one thing that's even more predictable with my meister than her love for her book collection it was the fact that she could not and would not stand for anyone insulting me or my lack of proper background. Truly I wish I could tell the over-inflated hot air balloon that he has shot himself in the foot with that comment but I wasn't feeling very nice at the moment. I watched as my technician tried to get a break in the conversation, intent upon correcting her unwanted escort's misconception.

"Look, he isn't hired help—you made as mistake, he's--!"

"Do not worry my dear. I would take car of this insolent fool. What did you mean your technician? You? You don't expect me to believe that utter nonsense. And what business is it of yours where I place my hand."

"Dude, you really are thick. I seriously doubt what I said was that difficult to grasp. You need a translation? Or should I speak a little slower so your brain could catch up with the rest of the discussion."

"You dare insult me?! Do you know who I am? I can get you expelled from this place sooner than you can spell your own name!"

"Doubt that. My name's real short."

"I'll make certain that you never gain any employment! I will have you blacklisted you pompous brigand!"

"Huh. Big words and with more than a few syllables. You know, I deal really well with short words and even fewer syllables." I heard Maka groan at my attempt at levity and resisted the strong urge to laugh aloud at the look of chagrin on her face.

"Of that I have no doubt. You are an errant fool to challenge me. I will see that you be suitably punished for this."

The sullen look and vicious tone finally penetrated the annoyed expression Maka donned during our exchange and cast a worried glance at my face but I knew better than to say anything. I was already feeling the leash on my temper slipping but I was wont to put Maka anywhere near a possible outbreak of violence. I have to keep my priorities straight.

"Soul…"

"Hello Maka. I was going to ask you if you're having fun tonight but I guess the answers obvious."

"Soul, its fine…"

"Not from where I was standing."

"Do you know this fool? Never mind dearest, I will make him see reason soon enough after he's been flogged. I could never tolerate people rising above their station in life."

"I have had it with you, your arrogance and you clinging hands! Will you, for once in you bigoted life, listen to those around you!"

"Feisty aren't you! Well I like a woman with spirit. I'm sure you will do very well. But I must warn you that I will not tolerate you having all these independent thought. Women must know their place--!"

**WA-PAK!!**

**

* * *

**Ten years of living together and somehow I still haven't discovered where she hides those damned heavy tomes she uses for her infamous 'Maka-chops'. The blond prig's eyes swirled as a baseball sized knot grew on his head. I watched a Maka smoothed the skirts of her dress and give a mild snort of distaste.

"Wow. Guess his royal hotheadedness never saw that coming."

"Shut it Soul."

"Seriously Maka. I doubt he realized he was about to be brained by a book-wielding dominatrix."

"Want to try it out for yourself?"

"Do I look like this idiot?"

"Good answer."

* * *

_On this note everything would've ended if the idiot just remained swirly-eyed on the floor of the ballroom. I for one would've been more than content to leave things as they were but then the idiot did something truly monumentally stupid. What happened next was simply a reaction. Honest._

* * *

We already turned away from the scene of carnage when the brainless blond rose from his inglorious heap of the floor. On its own, I would've probably left him alone, Maka having effectively defended her own honor. But when the poor excuse for mobile protein grabbed her wrist and made a move to raise his hands against her, that's when I think I truly saw RED for the first time.

"You presumptuous wench! How dare you! I will teach you a lesson--!"

"Soul! No don't--!"

Speed was a natural extension of being born a weapon. Having been born as a scythe gives more than double the normally expected bursts of quickness. In the blink of an eye I swung my technician into my arms. I felt the shallow and erratic gust of her breath as she leaned against my shoulder. Twisting I turned towards the familiar object concealed beneath the decorative drapes used for the evening. Gently I deposited Maka onto the narrow, plush piano bench. Maka looked up and gasped when she saw the look in my eyes. She trailed a hand along my jaw and I saw the trembling in her hands.

"Soul…."

"Stay here. I'll take care of things as quickly as possible."

"Stay…please…"

"I'll be quick as I can hon. Just wait here ok. Close your eyes for a bit."

I quickly turned away to take care of business before her state could further distract me. Now that she was safe and far enough not to see too closely to the threat of murder in my eyes, I could give vent to my fury.

* * *

The fool stood gaping like a fish at the spot where moment ago I vanished like a phantom. Slowly I sauntered closer to my prey. He blinked and then he saw my right hand poised languidly against the vulnerable pulse point at his neck. Unfortunately for him, my hand was no longer in its human form. The sharp edge of my scythe was already tracing lines along the vein in his throat leaving behind thin cuts and small beads of blood on the skin of the fool who dared to raise a hand in violence against the one person in Shibusen who could've saved him.

"You are a dead man." I stated with a smile that made my prey tremble but the fool put up a brave front.

"You-you are the Demon Scythe!"

"Bingo you walking corpse. Pity you didn't take the chance fate gave you and simply walked away."

"I-I didn't know who she was--!"

"Lying would only get you killed faster. You knew who she was. I saw it in the calculating look in those stupid eyes of yours. She warned you."

"She came on to me! I didn't know she was yours!"

"You sure you want to keep bad-mouthing my technician?" I murmured quietly.

The blond gulped audibly. "Your tech-but you are a Death Scythe! You belong only to Shinigami-sama! Not some little wench!"

"You know what your problem is? You can't keep your mouth shut when it really matters. Never mind. You won't be around to remember that simple reminder."

"You-you can't kill me here! There are thousands of witnesses who would see you attack an unarmed man."

"See you? No one would see you in this darkness."

I watched his eyes twitch the to side, allowing him to move away enough to show him that far from being in the midst of a glittering well lighted and populated crowd, he was now in a quiet dim corner of the ballroom. Not too dark but shadowed enough to give away nothing of the events unfolding within its murky depths.

"How-how?!"

"The how doesn't matter. Actually for you, nothing ever again would ever have the power to matter. You see, as far as I'm concerned, you're just trash that needs disposing."

"Look I meant no harm! I'm sorry! I truly sorry!"

"Too late." I raised my arm prepared to deliver the decisive strike when a flutter of energy caught my attention. Distracted I swung my fist down surprised when I barely felt the slither of skin against the tip of my scythe blade.

"Soul…"

"Ahhhhh!" The blond screamed causing me to notice the three inch gash that now decorated what was once a flawless cheek.

"Ah heck…now look what you guys made me do. Kid, don't startle me like that."

"You cut his face?!" Kid stated incredulously as he looked at the bleeding wound.

"I was aiming for his damned throat actually. I snagged a little higher when I felt someone coming closer."

"You can't kill people. I told you that." He reminded me primly causing a genuine smirk to flash across my lips even as my eyes blazed at the memory that caused me to strike out.

"This fool raised his hand to strike Maka. When things like that happen, more than just my hand slips Kid."

"You have to save me! You are Shinigami-sama's son! Arrest this criminal! He's a psychopath!" he babbled incoherently as he struggled to move away from the exposed blade. He started badly and fell on his butt when another, voice emerged from the shadows.

"Actually the psychopath is Chrona over here. But he's cool. No worries over that."

"You-you--!"

"Yo."

"Yo yourself Black Star. I told you to keep eyes on things."

Black Star scratched his head and gave his usual thousand-watt smile.

"I got distracted. Talking to Chrona and stuff and I was looking for food."

"Yeah, yeah, excuses. That's all I ever hear."

"You're from that war freak clan! You belong to a murdering family!'

"Hell, is this the kind of nonsense he's been spouting all night?" he pointed at the heap of human dirt on the floor. I nodded my assent.

"Pretty much."

"Surprised Maka didn't deck this damned idiot." He grumbled.

"She did. He just wouldn't stay down. Grabbed Maka and tried to hit her."

"You didn't!"

"I was provoked! No mere female should raise a hand against any man!"

"Damn. You ain't just stupid, boyo. What burg did you crawl out of? You tried to hit the Angel of Death? You have a death wish you idiot?"

"That is enough. I will ask this only once. Did you truly attempt to raise a hand in anger at a lady of Death City?"

"She hit me with a book! I was defending myself!"

"Hah! Maka-chop hits again." Black Star laughed and for a moment I allowed myself a quite chuckle at the efficiency of a book slammed with force on a person's vulnerable head. As Black Star and I were constant recipients of several Maka-Chops we were connoisseurs of the pain they were capable of instilling.

"Yeah. Classic. No offense guys but can you move out for a bit. I'm ticked off as hell and I need to vent."

"Hell no way man!"

"Black Star there is no need to raise your voice."

"Kid, this fool tried to hit Maka. If Tsubaki saw that he would be blond steak by now. Come on, let me at him. I really need a workout. I think I ate too much." He ran a hand against his bulging tummy causing Kid to snort delicately at the motion.

"You always eat too much. That's because you can be a glutton when foods made available to you."

"Whatever you say Kid. Now can I punch him through the wall?"

"You can't be serious! You can't allow a guest to be violated like this! I am Alastor Delacroix!"

"I also cannot allow your willful and deliberate act of violence against a lady and a trusted member of the personal guard of my father."

"P-p-personal guard? The Angel of Death is--!

"Actually everyone standing in front of you now is an Imperial Guard so to speak."

"Oh yeah, by the way, didn't you call me a lowly hired help? That means you also gave offense on my behalf. Now, we can't allow that now can we Black Star?"

"Oh man, I'd deck anyone who'd think I'm the maid. After all I am the greatest! I am stronger than a--!"

"As I was saying. The punishment for such an offense is--!"

"Punishment! Offense!! Are you daft? Is your brain unhinged? Don't you understand what this is? You have no sense of balance of--!"

A huge nerve ticked and pulsed on Kid's forehead. As one, Chrona, Black Star and I quietly stepped to the side and allowed the fool to experience first hand the sight of the son of Shinigami-sama releasing his canons of Death. Just this once, we would allow Kid to extract vengeance on all their behalf. It was—after all—the only way. None of us were stupid enough to get in his way when he was in THIS particular mood.

**"Balance? You. Are. Accusing. Me. Of having NO SENSE OF BALANCE?!!!!!!"**

* * *

The next day the charred smoking body of the man known as Alastor Delacroix was quietly escorted into his hotel before being ferried back to his school. Bystanders would attest to the fact that the once handsome as sin Delacroix was heard babbling incoherently as he huddled against the smoking ruins of his evening clothes about angels, stars, scythes and canons that delivered tickets to hell.

When asked about the event, Shibusen PR representatives agree that it might have been the result of an unfortunate combination of food poisoning and a kitchen accident that Delacroix has been unlucky enough to witness.


	7. Silliness, Suits and Songs

Authors Note: Somehow, there is a sense of adventure while I write this tale. Hope the rush pleases you as much as it pleases me. Many thanks to those that read. And to Nolli3--I have no idea how I string words together. It just happens at times. -kuroren23

* * *

**SOUL**

He could feel her eyes on him. He knows that Maka has questions. He knows that he owes her an explanation for his moods and silence. Heck he wouldn't have hesitated locking her up in their apartment and tying her to a chair to demand answers had she been the one holding out on him. But the long and short of it was that he didn't know what to tell her. The unexpected outcome of the events of the night was a god-sent distraction—a convenient means to cheerfully divert the restless energy that's been building inside him.

Even their trek home was a result of the residual tension that still hummed in his veins, a means to burn of excess energy. He didn't want or need anything that would create tension between them—it wouldn't be fair to Maka and it would only serve to darken his mood. Glancing up, he noticed that they were coming up to their street soon and a brisk breeze was ruffling his hair and making him shiver. He cast a glance at his partner, knowing that while she felt the same chill, she wouldn't make any comment about being made to walk outside. Smiling ruefully at the stubbornness of determined workaholic book worms he pulled Maka to his side, entwining his fingers more intimately with hers as they continued their leisurely walk home. Dressed to the nines and with her hair unbound Soul noticed how delicate Maka can be without the normal battle aura she exuded making him more aware than ever of the fragile looking girl walking docilely beside him. They walked out of the "scene of carnage" with nary a backward glance. He barely allowed Maka anytime to bid her farewells before escorting her unceremoniously out the doors. He simply grabbed his technicians hand, picked up her discarded coat, helped her into the garment and promptly walked out of the crowded ballroom as if nothing more interesting than a casual encounter occurred.

He wonders how it was possible for a peaceful creature like Maka to have such affinity for a weapon with an inborn short fuse. Admittedly, he wasn't as temperamental as Black Star nor as neurotic as Kid but still, he was well aware of what he was capable of. Just because his meister didn't have it in her to exact the kind of savagery he was quite capable of performing, it doesn't mean he had changed that much fundamentally. More than anything he was aware of the core of violence that resides within him. What baffles him is why something as simple as the sight of her smile calmed the normally turbulent rages inside him.

Looking at her from the corner of his eyes, he noticed once again the graceful way she carried herself…the confidence in her stride that grew even more determined as the years progressed. The honest, wholesome pleasure that gleamed in her fathomless green eyes as the wind caressed her waist length locks—her one true, self-proclaimed vanity. He no longer bothered wondering if she was disturbed by the little skirmish they had to face that night. Over the years, he had come to realize that Maka didn't have it in her to bear a grudge over the violence that seemed part and parcel of their lives. Her heart simply didn't have any room for long held resentments. When she noticed his stare, she simply smiled, gave his arm a squeeze and proceeded to tell him softly about her plans for the next day.

He realized that no matter how many years they've spent together, he would always see Maka as she was when they first met. Somehow, in his mind's eye, his destined technician and partner's visage would remain eternally that of an eager, wide-eyed innocent child.

* * *

_**Flashback...**_

The name tag lying benignly on the table was the last item he had to put on before he had to go out and make something of himself. The card in itself was harmless but he knew that a thin thread of irritation that shot through him at the necessity of having to wear the piece of paper. On principle, he dislikes the notion of labeling anything. The only thing that would make it worse is being labeled himself. The thin piece of card had just one word written on it. A word that meant the difference between _**wielder**_ and _**wielded**_. In some ways, that one word sealed his fate and made everything he was born for obsolete. But that was neither here nor now. He has gotten over the worst of his anger and resentment. He found acceptance within himself. The card couldn't change what he was, what he chose to become—WEAPON. That's what he was—what he would be for the rest of his life. What he was born to be and what he was now—he already buried that dilemma years ago, just as he buried the name he was given once.

Today would be just one more day spent scouting. Entrance to Shibusen was done in the manner of old fashioned high society. Soirees were held so that potential weapons and technicians could meet. There was no rule on how to look for a partner. As with the quirk of genetics that resulted in his being, the chance of finding a suitable was dicey at best. But he made a promise to his grandfather that he would attend all the events until he could find someone to resonate with. That was as far as Soul would allow regarding any interference with his search. How he would find the one soul intended for his—that was his business.

For some reason he felt compelled to don the pinstriped black suit that caught his eye when he and his grandfather went on their infrequent sojourns into the city. The suit was certainly not the typical off the rack version, being as how both he and his grandfather were both very discerning regarding sartorial matters. The suit was handmade from Italy along with his wingtip shoes. His tie was silk as was his hand tailored shirts that were made in England. The cuff links, courtesy of his grandfather, were gold and onyx engraved with his initials.

Fully dressed he faced the free standing Cheval glass mirror and eyed his image critically. Calm…collected…aloof without seemingly arrogant…cool. The word tasted oddly on his tongue. Cool. Yes…with his hair…the image of icy reproof seemed second nature while his eyes…well…as far as he could recall gem stones were cold and his eyes were certainly more gemlike than anything else. _**Oh yes. Cool…that's exactly what he wanted to be.**_

Cool as an iceberg. Impervious to the demands of those that impose themselves on him, He would be smooth as the glittering shards of ice that seemed so much like his own heart. He would be the very best—icy, sharp and to the point. Cool. It was precisely what he intends to become.

He never told his grandfather what he intends to do while he attended these preordained soirees. Truth was that for the last few events, all he has been doing was playing the piano. He would sit on the bench for a few minutes, running his hands over the ivory keys, keeping his senses open for anything out of the ordinary…something that will spark that feeling he knew instinctively was inside him.

He had been toying with a few tunes…seemingly random tunes and trills that formed no recognizable piece. If there had been anyone fortunate enough to listen to him play, he knew that they would simply say he was a fairly passable player. Nothing remarkable. Soul knew that they wouldn't be too far off the mark.

Except that Soul wasn't just some average, two-bit player with aspirations too high to be supported by blatantly inferior skills. Soul was born into a family whose creative genius ran deep. To be exact, he was born into a family of musical prodigies. His much older, thoroughly accomplished genius of a brother Wes had already been hailed as one of the greatest violinist in the world.

Soul knew then that no matter how compelling the sound the violin made, it was not the instrument for him. His brooding nature resisted the notion of following in someone else's footsteps and his brother's accomplishment cast a very long shadow. It took some time but finally his mercurial self found purchase in the subtle voice of the piano. He took to it like duck to water, one of the things he could remember pleasing his parents. He inherited their musical genes. Only time would tell if he inherited their genius as well.

He was classically trained—somehow his hands could follow the notes and he could play a score after hearing it only once but something inside him resisted the need to play as the score as his tutors dictated. Unlike traditional pianist, his touch and inclinations produced nothing like the smooth, evocative tunes one would expect from a pianist with the Evans name.

His music was haunting…they ravaged the mind of his listeners and stirred the darker nature that lurks in the hidden nooks of the subconscious. His music didn't offer serenity…they invaded and intrigued the mind until one was forced to abandon the effort completely or succumb to the mystique of his own complex pysche. But in the midst of all its evocative appeal… a poignancy lingered with every note he played. Soul was well aware what a study in contrast he was fast becoming but he relished the image. He was a weapon that used something as tame as music to test the waters of his surroundings.

He didn't understand the urge inside him but he wasn't about to resist the call of his instincts. That fateful day something assured him that he was on the right path. And so, as he had done before, Soul cast his lure…the lure of his music…music meant as a lure to just one and a definitive deterrent to all others.

That day, someone finally came to answer the calls his music was sending out. Someone finally heard his voice. But the one who came to share his world, his soul was someone unlike anyone Soul has ever met. Actually it was someone he never expected at all.

The someone was a little girl. Barely more than a budding teenager with long coltish legs that ate up the distance between them with a determined stride and eyes that seemed to fill her entire face. Her honey blond hair was tied back into two pigtails, her posture straight as an arrow and she carried herself with an unconscious grace and unmistakable pride.

She did not flitter through the crowds like hummingbirds, sampling and tasting wares indiscriminately. He watched intently as she stood quietly to the side of the room and center herself. She closed those expressive eyes whose color he was curious to know but he was careful not to give his very tenuous advantage. When they snapped open again, she began to stride purposely towards the alcove where he stayed, her eyes darting here and there as if she was searching for something. For the life of him he would never know for sure some higher power orchestrated the said event. When her eyes caught the unmistakable silhouette of the grand piano, she broke into a run and skidded to a halt in front of him.

"Hello! Where you the one playing?"

"Yes. What do you think?" he asked casually. The little girl with eyes the color of spring looked at him and titled her head as if considering her answer. Something about her compelled him to play a bit more, letting his instincts guide his clever fingers over the smooth keys.

"Well?"

"It's odd." He was used to the answer. He wasn't, however, prepared for the bone-jarring satisfaction that assailed him when she gave him a sweet smile. "But somehow I really, really like it."

"Huh."

"My name's Maka Albarn. I'm a technician."

"Soul. Weapon."

"Hey Soul, wanna be partners?"

"Sure."

_**End Flashback…**_


	8. Teas and Truths

Disclaimer: SOUL EATER is NOT mine. There. As for this story, I am having as much fun as I can making their relationship unfold. Inspiration is needed, so please--review. Many thanks!!!

* * *

**_When I feel what I feel_**

**_Sometimes it's hard to tell you so_**

**_You may not be in the mood to learn what you think you know_**

**_ There are times when I find you wanna keep yourself from me_**

**_When I don't have the strength-- I'm just a mirror of what I see_**

**_-_**_ Aaliyah, "At Your Best"_

**

* * *

SOUL  
**

It was only a matter of moments before he expected her to break the growing silence between them. Calculating the exact moment wasn't a hardship for anyone who has spent years living with one Maka Albarn.

They have reached their apartment without any other undue incident and Soul was looking forward to a quiet nightcap in the relative privacy of his room. He walked into their kitchen intent upon beginning what amounted to his technique for unwinding after a particularly stressful day. He barely noticed when Maka quietly slipped into her room to change out of her evening finery into something billowy, thick and comfortable. When she emerged after a few minutes clad in what he privately dubbed as her "Wendy Darling-meets-Grandma Moses" nightgown, he didn't bother hiding the grin that threatened to split his face in half.

Wordlessly he held out a thin, delicate bone china cup, faint tendrils of steam rising from the perfectly brewed jasmine tea. Maka gave him a smile and after a few sips released a heartfelt sigh. Soul dropped unceremoniously into the couch and waited for Maka to settle next to him in their customary pose—him leaning back against cushions while she placed her feet on his knees. Absently he traced the elegant arches of her feet, massaging unconsciously the smooth silky soles.

"Soul?"

"Hm?"

"Is something wrong?" she asked looking down into her cup. Soul held out his hand for the cup and with a graceful twist of his wrist placed the cup beside him on one of the coffee tables placed in their living room. He deliberated for a few minutes before sighing in resignation. Burrowing more comfortably against the cushions, he decided it was time they got this conversation out of the way.

"Why are you asking?"

She gave me one of those looks that normally graced her gaze whenever a problem would present itself and it's the kind that she normal finds puzzling and fascinating at the same time. Like a situation that she never assumed would ever take place and just did.

"Because you normally don't provoke random fights just for the heck of it. That's usually Black Star's thing."

"Black Star would agree with you there."

"Much to Tsubaki-chan's every growing frustration but I swear that woman is a saint. And don't think you're diverting my attention Soul. You haven't answered my question yet."

"Thought it was something to do…" he deadpanned, baiting her but Maka only wriggled her toes in protest.

"As if I'd believe that." She snorted. "You were on security duty. Since when do you prefer that kind of assignment? You used to say they're troublesome, bothersome chores better left to the students."

Soul sighed, running his hand along the sides of Maka's feet, tracing each toe as he deliberated. "Felt like it."

"Soul."

Maka's patience finally reached the limit. She seldom uses that tone if and when she could avoid it. There were few reasons for her to use it since Soul was usually not so reticent about airing his thoughts—both unwanted and needed.

"Spill it."

"Hell, no." Maka groaned in frustration and gave him a small kick from her bare foot. Soul merely pinched the soft ankle and refused to let her other foot go.

"Why not?"

"Don't want to" came the rakish reply. He pushed her feet off his knees and as she looked up to him, he bent down from the waist and lifted her into his arms easily. A surprised yelp emerged from her lips at the unexpected move.

"Soul!"

He continued as if she never made a sound. He walked past the light switches and flicked them off without a word as he headed towards Maka's bedroom. Gaining entrance with barely a push against her door, he tucked her under the downy quilt and straightened up with a modicum of graceful movements.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna tell me what's bothering you?" she asked softly as she clutched at her favorite pillow, a habit known only to Soul and shared between them just like the baby grand that they kept in one of their rooms—tucked out of sight.

"Nothing. It's nothing Maka. Just a letter from home."

* * *

"Oh!"

Soul knew that as far as questionings go, that would be the end of it. Part of the reason they worked so well and Maka suited him so beautifully was the fact that Maka understood barriers more than anyone else in Death City. No one else, not another person in Soul's life understood him half as well as Maka Albarn in spite of their worlds-apart upbringing.

Not knowing why he did what he did, he followed instincts and settled atop the quilt, shooing Maka to scoot to the other side of her bed to give him enough room to stretch out. Pillowing his head on his crossed arms; he stared at Maka's ceiling and tried to figure out what to tell her.

"I never told you how I ended up in Death City, did I?"

"No…"

"How come you never asked?"

"It was information for you to share. I thought if you didn't want to share then I have no right to demand that from you."

"I'm your weapon. We live together. Some would say those things give you more than a right."

"It's your past. You never bothered to tell me what a screw-up my family is. I never even gave you fair warning. I just thrust you into it and prayed that it wouldn't drive you insane. The least I could do was let you keep a few parts of yourself sane."

"Your family ain't that bad you know…"

"You want my Papa?"

"Oh, well, now that you mentioned it…"

"What do you mean it's a letter from home Soul?"

"A letter arrived a few days ago. It was something I never thought I would ever live to see. You see I never really told them where I was going. Not that I kept it a secret or anything like that but it was like an unspoken thing between me and my family. I went out and sought a place to live the way I was meant to and they saw to it that they kept themselves well away."

"Your family didn't want you to come here?"

"No. But more than that I didn't want to live my life the way they wanted me to. My family is different Maka."

"So is mine."

"At least you were born here. You were born understanding THIS world and never spent so much as moment considering that you were a freak for being what you are." He muttered, surprised to hear the faintest edge of bitterness in his voice.

"Are you saying your family thought of you as a freak?" Maka's voice was raised in indignation soothing some part of Soul, knowing that at least here was one person who was just as indignant as he felt during those early years.

"It doesn't matter now, you know. It hasn't mattered to me since I got here and started studying in Shibusen. As far as I know, it was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"But they are family."

"Family? Maka, for me, you're my family. To some extent people in Shibusen are my true relatives. I don't think anyone else could understand…Maybe Black Star is the only one who shares the same fate. I mean he was adopted by Shinigami-sama after the massacre of his clan…he has no one."

"You're wrong. Almost all of us here had to forge our own bonds. Our own family."

"Maka—"

"I know about Black Star's clan. I know how difficult it was for him to overcome centuries of prejudice. Look around you Soul…all our friends bear some scar or another. Weapon and Meister alike."

"Kid sure doesn't."

"Kid has his OCD and his inability to sacrifice symmetry for the mundane ordinary things in life. The twins never had respectability until he gave that to them and the security of a home they can call their own."

"Guess you're right. I suppose now that I think about it—I'm more like Tsubaki in that sense…living under the shadows cast by a talented sibling."

"You have siblings?'

"Yeah. A brother. He was a musical genius. Everyone expected me to be just like him."

"But aren't you? No one can make a piano sing the way you do…"

Soul gave a soft chuckle and pulled on a lock of Maka's bright hair. "I know I should be flattered and all but believe me I was nothing compared to my brother. The musical world worshipped at his feet. For me—it's a tall order to follow him. And then came the fact that I was born like this."

"Like what? You look fine to me."

"To you, yes. To you and those born here in Death City, a human transforming into a weapon is a perfectly normal thing. To those of us who came from different backgrounds—the reality is that were considered little more that freaks and throwbacks. A genetic blip."

"Soul!"

"Sorry Maka-love but that's the truth." The endearment slipped from his lips without conscious effort and Maka barely noticed as she concentrated on the strange flow f information flowing freely from Soul for the first time since they met.

"Seems entirely idiotic to me. How can people be so cruel?"

"That which is unusual is usual viewed with skepticism, fear or loathing. It's basic human nature."

"Ugh." Maka wriggled until she could lift one corner of her quilt to enfold her moody partner. Soul gave her a grateful smile before settling more comfortably in her bed, grabbing at a pillow and stretching an arm to wrap around her shoulders.

"My words exactly." Soul shifted a bit until Maka squirmed and turned to find a more comfy pose. A few minutes later, he noticed the slow deepening of her breath and a soft sniffling sound. He was about to close his eyes when Maka spoke once more.

"What's the letter all about? Who was it from?" she murmured sleepily.

"It came from the Main Family. They wanted me to come home."

* * *

**_When you feel what you feel _**

**_Oh, how hard for me to understand_**

**_So many things have taken place before this love affair began_**

**_But if you feel, oh, like I feel_**

**_Confusion can give way to doubt _**

**_For there are times when I fall short of what I say,_**

**_what I say I'm all about, all about_**


	9. showers et al

Authors Note: There is a curious drive to see this story through so I am giving in before my words desert me once again. As they say trike while the iron is hot and all other sayings pertaining to such. Enjoy. - kuroren23

* * *

**MAKA**

_His family wants him…_

_They want HIM to go home…?_

_Home…?_

_Soul was going home…?_

_Soul…_

_…was leaving?_

_

* * *

_The words he last spoke before sleep claimed her followed her well into the depths of her dreams…tormenting her…taunting her with images of things and emotions she could not name. Vaguely she recalled trying to stave off the sleepiness that assailed her the moment Soul tucked her in bed. With the combination of wine, excitement and the comforting presence of her weapon, Maka drifted off to sleep before she could delve further into a more detailed discussion of Soul's cause for distress. The last thing she could remember was the steady cadence of Soul's heart beating strongly beneath her cheeks as she lay curled around her partner.

_Soul…_

Finally sleep gave way to wakefulness and Maka awoke to a disquieting feeling of standing at the edge of a treacherous cliff. Something inside her, some residual feeling of premonition or heightened sense told her that a storm was brewing at its heading dead straight their way. The lull that she felt the night before was just that—the quiet before the storm. Surely that would be her last reprieve and she was disturbed by the impending sense of gloom that threatened to consume her.

_Stay…_

As she fought against the final stirrings of sleep she tried to decipher the meaning behind his cryptic behavior and his words last night. She continued to lay in bed, unwilling to admit that she was hesitant to leave her warm cocoon to confront the consuming panic and fear of what her partner deliberately left out in his confession.

_He didn't say that he wouldn't go._

Maka knew that at the moment, she was simply speculating, alright, hyperventilating, but as far as she could recall Soul never once mentioned his family in any context before this night. They had been together nearly five years before she even knew his last name. His real, honest-as-a-death god-family name.

_Evans._

She often wonders why Soul never said the name aloud after that one time. As far as she could tell Soul almost always introduced himself as Soul. Soul Eater when asked for any elaboration. Soul never made it known to anyone that he even had any other name other than the one he gives out. She doubts if outside their tight circle of friends anyone knew that Soul had a real last name or that he could and did play the piano on occasion.

_Soul…what's going to happen now…?_

Forcing languid limbs to move, she crossed to her dresser and gathered her usual ensemble: a plaid skirt, a long sleeved, black cashmere turtleneck and her long coat. Being around her partner for sometime left marks in her choice of outfits but some things remained constant. Though she has replaced her steel-toed boots with leather one, they had the added feature of silver stiletto heels. It proved to be just the right accessory for someone constantly on the either end of a fight. Placing them on the bed, she pulled her night gown over her head and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her as she walked into their shared bathroom.

Her mind was so consumed with figuring out how best to breach the subject of the letter with her partner that she failed to notice the steam billowing from the partially closed door. She was about to drop her towel when she heard a rough, familiar voice drawl out lazily from behind the concealing fog of steam.

"Maka don't you think that it's too early for this? We just shared a bed and now you want to share a shower? Are we married then?"

"Soul you pervert!!!!"

* * *

"I seriously can't see a reason why you're the one who's steaming mad. You're the one that came in while I was in the bath. I should be the one having hysterics by now."

"Oh shut up Soul."

Soul tried and failed to keep his expression blank as he stared at the mortified, blushing face of his technician. Over the years they have had close calls, what with living in the same confining quarters since they were teens, it's only expected that they have their share of embarrassing encounters. But today marked one of the most significant ones. Maka was always falling asleep on him and being as linked as they were, personal space and physical affections were taken as a matter of course. Still the bathroom moment was one for the books.

"I told you one of these days I'd find you ogling my superb self. No woman could resist--!'

"You're beginning to sound like Black Star. Next thing I know I'll be hearing you say you're then greatest."

"Honey, I am great."

"Yeah, right."

He could recall the faint lines of skin that Maka inadvertently bared while she was lost in thought. Had he no genuine feelings of affection, he would have simply allowed her the humiliation of finding him in the bath but something—training, etiquette drummed at an early age or just the ingrained need to protect Maka from herself made him speak out. It helped a great deal that the steam was so thick he couldn't make out his own hand let alone Maka's face but he knew instinctively the moment she came into the room.

Soul wondered not for the first time if he should try and figure out what it was that he and Maka shared. Sure being partners were what they've been—its almost all they've known since they met—but he wonders why even when he became the strongest scythe and could, if he so wished, lived the rest of his life in the service of the Death God himself did he prefer his meister over every other weapons dream.

Now if only he could figure out what that means and what his family wants, life could get back to normal.


	10. Yeows, Vows and Bigshots

Authors Note: Normal disclaimer--SOUL EATER isn't mine and I seriously don't think it will ever be. I hope people would enjoy this part. Will be pivotal in the turn of events.

* * *

**This time, This place  
Misused, Mistakes  
Too long too late  
Who was I to make you wait  
Just one chance Just one breath  
Just in case there's just one left  
'Cause you know, you know, you know**

_-- Nickelback_

**_

* * *

_SOUL**

**_Present, noon the same day...  
_**

This sucked.

Seriously, the events of the day would register more than a fair rating of ten point five in his personal whacko-meter if he had one.

He hated having his schedule altered. Especially when he had NO intention nor inclination to do so.

He hated lying to Maka. It made him feel like the lowest of the low and it simply isn't cool. Lying, cheating and stealing were against his self-imposed Cool-Code. And he was nothing if not Cool.

Worse he hated breaking promises to her. So NOT Cool. It was as far from cool as anything he could imagine. Especially when he doesn't even want or wish to break his promise in the first place. Honestly, some days are just more annoying than others and then there are days when things just kept getting steadily worse.

Hell and damn.

He wished he just stayed in at home in bed with a book and a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door.

Right now, he really wished he'd receive a Maka-chop on his noggin and forget the events of the last half hour.

* * *

**_Present, six hours earlier…._**

The breakfast table saw to a blushing technician and a smirking weapon casting occasional glances at each other. And while Soul found the entire incident amusing and something that should be taken in stride due to their long history together, Maka certainly thought differently.

"You are shameless. I should've known living with Blair for so long turned you into some kind of closet-pervert."

"I'm shameless? Little love you're the one that spent the better part of our lives together wearing skirts during battles. I think you flashed me enough that I've had the contents of your lingerie drawer memorized—pun intended."

"You—how could you say such a thing!"

The outraged blush on his technician's face threatened to launch him into guffaws but he resisted the effort mightily. There was such a thing as '_too early in the day'_ for Maka-chops. He certainly had no intention of having it as an opening salvo to his day.

"It's not my fault you were skulking in corners with intent to molest me while I innocently bathe. If anyone's a closet pervert, I think that would be more your thing than mine. I wasn't the one who walked into an innocent man's morning ritual."

"Oh innocent my foot! You looked at me! You've been looking at me for years!"

At that Soul lost the battle and started laughing out loud. He grinned at the furious blush that spread once more across Maka's pale cheeks. He laughed harder when he overheard his technician curse her fair coloring. He was so busy getting his chuckles that he didn't even have time to duck when Maka slammed the nearest book _(thankfully it was only a thin handbook, featuring, ironically enough, the subject of self-control in stressful situations) _she found across his laughing face. The force effectively knocked him on the floor.

"Gods woman! Anyone ever told you, you have a violent streak freakier than Kid's OCD? You'll ruin my face hitting it like that!"

For a moment a look of pure bewilderment flashed across Maka's face. Soul wondered if his jokes finally went too far and he'll be receiving the dreaded, patented Maka-Chop Deluxe when he heard a strange, strangled sound escape from his technician's lips. Surging to his feet in a smooth, efficient twist, he grabbed Maka's shoulders and tried to shake some sense into the all-too silent woman when he felt her tremble. Cursing under his breath for his tactless mouth, he was about to spout of apologies when his sensitive ears registered the faintest sound of a snicker. Releasing her shoulders as if scalded, Soul saw that unlike his fear, it was laughter that wracked Maka's frame.

"You--!"

"It's just that—Soul—did you hear yourself? You sounded just like that guy?"

"Guy? What guy? You're demented!"

"That guy—the one that Kid institutionalized for the balance comment. He sounded just like that earlier that night—all about his face and…!"

The happy glow on Maka's face made Soul smile. The laughs they've had since growing up had been few and far in between. Having fulfilled their potentials gave them less time to relax and be with each other. On impulse, he swept her into his arms and sat her on his lap as they shared morning coffee. He gave in to the lure of the moment and kissed the top of Maka's head like an indulgent parent. Maka gave him a warm hug before sliding off his lap to sit on her chair.

After settling down to their customary morning fare, they inquired about each other's plans for the day. Soul was about to step out of the house when he noticed the considering look that Maka was giving his way.

"Anything on your mind this morning? And don't tell me you're still bothered by the fact that I saw you skinny hinny."

Maka blushed and an outraged gleam sparked in her eyes before it was extinguished by a more pressing need in her mind.

"Soul…last night…"

"What about it Maka…?"

"That letter…the one that you told me…what do you plan to do?"

He watched silently as Maka fixed him a look from her fathomless green eyes. The sight caused him to smile slightly. Ever since they came together and Soul would get into one of his moods, he would ponder the dichotomy of their eye color. Maka's eyes were the very color of life—vivid, alive and hopeful. There was always an air of innocence in her gaze that in no way diminished it's penetrating perception. Conversely there were his eyes—blood red, damning, intense and full of passion and heat—fiery and consuming and all the more formidable because of his cool persona—eyes like tamed flame.

Soul sighed. Running a hand through his hair, he looked at the damning piece of paper he left unceremoniously on the hall table. The question was valid and sooner or later he should tell her about what really occurred when he walked away from his family but for now, there was only one thing he needed to tell her.

"Soul…I'm sorry…I shouldn't have--!"

He waved off the apology and offered an apologetic smile of his own.

"That letter doesn't change anything Maka. It doesn't have the power to change my mind. I made sure they knew what I was thinking and how I felt when I left. My decision to forge a life here hasn't altered one bit."

A crooked if a bit wobbly smile graced Maka's lips and Soul noticed the faintest shimmer of tears in her eyes. He opened his lips to ask what the tears were for when his technician spoke.

"Really? Is that really, really true Soul?"

"Tsk. You're old enough to vote and put your merry Papa in a tizzy by getting married and you're still as ditzy as a kid Maka."

"You promise? You're not going to--?"

"I have no plans of leaving Shibusen, Death City or you. I swear—I'm not going anywhere. Probably you'd be the one kicking me out on my cold butt in the next few years."

I see…" a soft laugh, a bit watery and breaking at odd places reached Soul's ears as he stood there by their door bathed in the brilliant shimmer of early morning light. Maka gave him an unusually sweet smile, one that tugged at his heart and made him wish there was a way to tell her how much he values what he found with her. Nodding towards the direction of the town, he asked cheekily.

"Do you have an assignment today?"

"Oh yeah, just some routine recon mission with Tsubaki-chan, Black Star and Chrona. No biggie."

"No biggie huh. Nothing involving Black Star is ever routine."

"Oh come now. He isn't that bad anymore." Soul cocked an eyebrow and waited. Maka sighed before nodding reluctantly, "Okay, so maybe he's still the same as ever but he toned it down a bit, you must admit that."

"Hai. If you say so. Still, remember that you have no weapon with you. Don't go rushing into things like you usually do."

"I'll remember. Or you could come with me. It will be fun—just like old times."

"Hah. You are not going to make me use up my one day off gallivanting through the underbush chasing after Black Star and everything else in sight that he would issue a challenge to. I have better things to do. I have a hot date with my bed and a pillow with my name on it."

"You sound like some decrepit retiree Soul. So…tonight I'm going to—!"

"You'll see me here, just where you left me. I'll be home waiting Maka."

"Alright. Later then Soul. Remember, it's your turn to cook tonight."

"Yeah yeah…go!"

"Bye!"

Soul watched as his partner walk out of their shared apartments before locking up the door and heading towards the main city square. It never occurred to either Maka or Soul that soon neither one of them would be in any position to keep their vows to one another.

* * *

_**Present, current time...  
**_

He noticed the man two minutes after leaving the front door of the apartment. Soul commended the man's skill at shadowing potential targets and was impressed when the man kept his distance within a two block radius.

_He's a pro and he's not rushing. Not bad. Must have a lot of back-up nearby. He certainly isn't afraid he might loose me completely while in the city. Yeah right._

Keeping his gaze languid and his stride easy, he kept tabs on his stalker and made plans to confront the man when the first opportunity presented itself. He stopped by his favorite deli and butchers, keeping in mind his dinner preparations despite the irritation he felt for this untimely and ultimately obvious obstruction. After giving instructions regarding the delivery of his purchases, Soul decided that the dance was played out enough.

_Time to hunt._

* * *

The man was wearing a black suit, white shirt and black tie—the kind that seemed generic to all those serving as security detail for the rich, the powerful and those forced by either circumstance to seek protection. Soul seeing a deserted alley ducked into the narrow opening and vanished into the darkness of its many nooks and crannies. Once his tail scrambled to follow suit, he stepped out into the light and confronted his wary prey.

"You want to tell me why you've been following me for the better half of the day?"

The man was taken aback when he spoke. The body guard was amply muscled and spoke with calm, commanding air. Soul was surprised to find that despite his annoyance at having been tailed by an obvious pro, he was amused by the deference shown by the older man towards him.

"Are you Mr. Soul Evans?"

"I believe I asked the questions first. It would be for the best if we keep things clear right off the bat."

"Sir--!"

"Answer the questions first boyo."

"If you must insist. I was sent to escort you. There has been some family emergency and I need for you to come with me now sir."

"I don't think so."

"I'm sorry sir, but you don't have a say on this. This is an emergency. You simply must come."

The man reached out to snag his arm but Soul effectively side stepped the move with minimum effort. He watched the man's pupils dilate in awareness and surprise. Soul smirked when the man eyed him warily. Pro as the man was, Soul was certain he saw few people who could cover twelve feet of distance in a blink of an eye. Soul kept his hands tucked neatly into his pocket, giving the man's hands a nod before drawling lazily.

"I don't know what they told you but I suggest you don't extend that hand unless you intend to loose it."

"Sir--!"

'Why don't you tell me your name boyo? I can't keep calling you that while were having this talk and all. Seems impolite and my tech would tear a strip off my hide if she ever finds out."

"My name isn't-!"

"Can it or spill it boyo. My patience isn't very good for the most part and I get trigger happy when people get huffy on me."

"They call me Niall sir."

"Niall?"

"Rhymes with kneel sir. I'm no bleeding river, I always point out."

The rueful admission made Soul laugh. Leaning back against the wall, he pinned the man with his ruby gaze and wondered how best to extract information from this emissary from his other life when he noticed a dozen or more so black-clad men emerge from the shadows. A dark, nondescript town car also pulled over.

"Niall, what's with the back up? We haven't even begun yet."

"They are contingency measures you understand."

"Hm."

When one of the new arrivals thought of getting the jump on him by making a grab at his arm, the presumptuous man dropped on the ground screaming as Soul and all the others watched the blood oozing from a severely slashed palm. Soul flicked his left hand absently to dislodge the blood flowing along the razor-edge of his scythe-blade.

"Told you. Better keep your hands to yourself. I do." He murmured softly. The man on the ground managed to confine his screams to incoherent mumbling. He turned to walk away when the town car's passenger side door opened. A man stepped out and turned towards Soul's departing back.

The voice that spoke behind him was polished, urbane and with just the judicious amount of gruff to make it interesting. It was a voice of authority and utmost charm—the voice of a leader of men and one that Soul thought he would never hear again.

"You are still as feisty as ever. I told you that temper of yours would need some work. Surely you haven't stooped to taking potshots at the hired help Soul."

* * *

"**You! What the hell are YOU doing here**?" Soul grounded out the inquiry through teeth clenched so tight it was a wonder they didn't break.

The man who spoke was a distinguished looking gentleman with sharp aquiline features and unusual cognac colored eyes. The firm lines of his lips and uncompromising way he held himself spoke of a lifetime spent being in control of his environment and taking command of every situation. His dark hair was liberally threaded with gray that added to the impact of his entire persona rather than detracting from it. Dressed impeccably in a while double breasted suit, he appeared very much like an aristocrat off to a jaunt in the provinces.

'Is that anyway to address me boy?"

"As I live and breathe it really is you –Uncle Creed."

"So you still recognize me, boy. I had thought you would've forgotten everything about your life outside this godforsaken place."

"This place is hardly forsaken by the gods but it's just the way I prefer it. A place where people like you have no right to be in. Why are you here?"

"Why else would I be here? What other reason is there for me to go gallivanting off to parts unknown except for something really important. They hauled me out of my retirement you know."

"You've learned to quibble effectively in your old age. I never thought I'd live to see the day you would play gopher for rest of the Evans."

"I don't quibble boy. I'm here because there is a need for you at the home front. I'm here to tell you that your self-imposed exile has officially come to an end. The Main House sent a missive to inform you of that. "

"I don't know what they told you but I'm not in exile. I'm no longer an Evans and I'm happy for the fact."

"Has living in the middle of the desert desiccated your brains, boy? Stop spouting off this nonsense--!"

"I haven't lost my sanity but I am rapidly losing patience for people who think they could just drop in or send me a damned piece of paper and tell me how to live my life."

Soul turned to go. His entire body was humming with tension but he knew he'd be damned before he broke down in front of this representative of his estranged clan. He was determined not to let them sway his choice and jeopardize years of accrued freedom.

"The family needs you boy. You're an Evans regardless of this nonsense you keep spouting off. And the truth is—we're in a very dangerous spot right now and only you can bail us out."

"I am an Evans no longer. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to get used to the notion on your drive back. Unless you have a need for a weapon or investigation, you have no need for me."

"I told them they had no right to demand of this from you after the debacle with the rest of family over your leaving. But the truth is I HAD to come. There isn't any other way boy. You have to come home with me now."

"I AM HOME Uncle."

"Soul. Your parents and Wes has gone missing. They've been missing for two months now."

"Hell and damn."

* * *

**_On my knees, I'll ask  
Last chance for one last dance  
'Cause with you, I'd withstand  
All of Hell to hold your hand  
I'd give it all I'd give for us  
Give anything, but I won't give up  
'Cause you know, you know, you know_**


	11. Mad Missions and Confessions

Disclaimer: SOUL EATER is not mine. Also many thanks to the songs that inspire each chapter and to Elizabeth Lowell for Niall's name. All other characters are mine. This is where the story enters a slightly more somber tone but whenever possible I will endeavor to retain some sense of humor. Hope you enjoy. To those that reviewed, my eternal gratitude for your kindness and time spent reading my paltry attempt at writing - kuroren23

* * *

**Should I let you fall?  
Lose it all?  
So maybe you can remember yourself.  
**

- _call me when you're sober, Evanescence_

**_

* * *

_**_Unknown to the irate ruby-eyed Demon Scythe at the moment of his confrontation with his all-too obvious stalker, his technician was also facing some difficulty of her own._

**MAKA  
**

Maka felt something within her stir as she crossed the outpost that marked the edge of Death City. Her feet stopped on their own accord, her body pivoting until she was looking behind her, looking towards the city she was leaving temporarily to answer one of their many assignments. Something in the light of the early morning day gave her an eerie sense of déjà vu—and what she saw wasn't the light of the early sun but that of dusk and the skies were painted with the most vivid shades of red. For some reason, goose bumps broke out on her skin and she was hard-pressed to suppress a shiver of unnamed dread.

"Maka-chan? Is something wrong? Did you forget something?

"No..nothing—its nothing like that Tsubaki-chan. I just got a chill…something…"

Black Star landed next to Maka and gave her a thump on the back nearly causing her to face plant on the dirt. He then proceeded to crow his usual speech of greatness but Kid thankfully silence that with an order to survey the surrounding areas with his greatness. Pacified, Black Star moved on without further comment. Tsubaki offered a commiserating smile and asked softly.

"Is it Soul-kun?"

"No…Soul is fine…he's home right now…maybe even snoring half the day away…it was just an odd feeling…I'm sorry am I holding everyone back?"

"Not at all…ara! Maka-chan! Maka! Something's shining on your collar…" Patty pointed, peering at Maka closely as she leaned forward, brows scrunched up inquisitively above lively blue eyes.

"Shining---? Ah! You mean this?" From the edge of her collar Maka lifted an impossibly delicate twin chain of gold and silver with a pendant hanging from it. The chains were intertwined in such a way that it would be impossible to see where one chain starts and the other begins. Suspended from it was a stylizes musical quarter note—the rounded head made from a singularly beautiful emerald that seemed to flow into the staff that were lined in such a way that the rubies decorating it ended on a sharp arc that made up the notes extended staff, the entire pendant edges in gold.

Liz let out a wolf whistle in appreciation as she looked at what Maka held out.

"That's a pretty piece of glitter Maka-chan. Did you Dad give that to you when you graduated?"

Maka gave out laugh and shook her head. She looked at the pendant and a soft remembering smile lingered on her lips—something that caught the attention of those around her.

"Papa wouldn't know what to give the women in his life, let alone his daughter. On my graduation he was too busy crying to be shy about buying me an apartment. He even forgot the fact that I would be living with Soul even then."

"Was it Soul Maka-chan?"

"That's right Patty-chan. Soul gave this to me…he said I deserve a piece of the music or something like that…it's simply the prettiest thing he'd ever given me…I never even thought he'd remember what day coincided our graduation…" the smile lingered for a moment longer before it drifted away and the vague sense of disquiet replaced it once more. Maka's hand tightened on the pendant reflexively—as if some threatening air brushed against her.

Kid leveled a measuring look at Maka's face and his brows furrowed a bit but he couldn't pinpoint the exact reason he felt a sense of uneasiness. It was like a ripple of awareness that came and immediately vanished…not staying long enough to be fully understood, but long enough to brush against their soul perception.

"Maybe it would be best if you had a weapon Maka."

"No worries Kid-kun. This is just an ocular inspection anyway. It's not like there's a possibility of having an encounter. I'll be fine."

"It would be best if you stay behind us when we get there then. I'd need you for the long-range inspection but when we get there, make sure someone with a weapon is always near at hand. I don't want to have to explain to Soul or Spirit-san the hows and whys if you become wounded in any way."

Maka gave Kid a nod and answered readily enough. "Yes, boss."

Kid looked intently at the sky before signaling for their contingent to move. The sooner they were gone the sooner they could come back. Maybe then he could unravel the cause behind the impending sense of disaster that whispered insistently along the edge of his senses.

* * *

**SOUL**

"Uncle Creed…you have been enjoying retirement for too long if you think you could come up with a lame joke like that just to force me to return."

"This is no joke…the truth is I resisted any effort to contact you. You got away from the circus that comes from being an Evans and you did it your way and at a very early age. Your brother Wes was an Evans through and through—he wouldn't have gone against anything."

"Wes wasn't born with a genetic quirk that made him a barely passable member of the human race."

"Yes, there was that. Your parents were prepared to leave you alone…There was no need for them to interfere with the life you've created. The sad truth was that even if they wanted to your Grandfather Lawe wouldn't have stood for it."

"Good old Gramps. He sure knew how to keep his word—no matter how decrepit he was at the time." He picked up the coffee cup that he placed in front of himself and his less-than-welcomed guest. The sight of an Evans—sans himself—within the confines of the space that he shared with his technician felt intrusive. Like he was allowing a voyeur to peek into their private lives. The thought was a disquieting one and he tried his best to wipe it off his mind.

"Well, he was certainly no help when it came to providing any information in locating you. It would've saved us weeks if he only opened his mouth but like everything else in life, my uncle's simply too stubborn to be borne."

Soul looked at his Uncle and waited for a tinge of melancholy to steal over him. Uncle Creed was his father's twin—identical twins that were raised as the most prized princes of the Evans clan. And yet looking at him now, Soul felt none of twinges of homecoming or nostalgia that he expected at the sight of a familiar face--the face identical to the man who gave him life. As the older man sat in the homey living room of the apartment, Soul could detect the weariness and tension that gripped him.

"I have a life here and duties to attend to Uncle Creed."

"This is your family Soul! You can't seriously say you'll turn your back on them. What will happen to the family without someone in the helm?"

"That's what heirs are for."

"Wes isn't married. There isn't anyone else. Even I can't take over for very long. I do not belong to the ruling Main House."

Soul gave a derisive snort before replacing his cup to the table with a decided thump. He leveled fierce crimson orbs on the uncompromising visage of the man who once cradled him in his protective arms.

"You mean it's a job for the spare since the heir is inconveniently indisposed?" Soul's laugh was bitter and his uncle flinched under the subtle censure.

"I never claimed to understand nor agree with the workings of our family Soul. It has been that way ever since. It would take a man stronger than either your father or I to change that. We need you to come back. To show everyone that there is still an Evans from the Main Family left to continue the lineage."

"Oh you mean you need a stand-in to bear the brunt of the panic that's sweeping the conglomerates panicking at the thought of the end of the Main House. You need me to be a figurehead until the real heir comes back. Have I got it right Uncle Creed?"

* * *

**MAKA  
**

The house was a decrepit looking old Tudor mansion. From the outside, Maka could almost imagine what it would've looked like during its more prosperous days. There used to be a formal garden once but now it resembled a damp dank marsh more than anything horticultural. There was an air of despair and anger that lingered all around like an invisible miasma, making breathing difficult. Maka glanced at Black Star and noticed that even the usually exuberant ninja felt the oddness of the air around them. He and his weapon landed silently beside them. A frown marred his strangely solemn face. When he spoke, there was a terse quality to his voice—as if he was uncertain and he found the uncertainty troubling.

"There's no movement in the house. If there's anyone inside, they haven't made a single action in the last hour. But whether it's alive or not…I leave that to you to find out."

"Anything else Black Star" Kid inquired as he digested this new information. Black Star grimaced before dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, as if the words left a bad tast in them.

"Yeah. The entire place smells dead and old." At the puzzled look of the rest of the team, Tsubaki explained.

What he means is that it smells aged—ancient. Like it hasn't been disturbed in years. Like a space that hasn't been aired out in some time…"

" I see…" Kid cast a glance towards Maka and she nodded. "Maka"

"There's only one person inside Kid-kun. I can't tell if it's male or female but—there's something odd about the soul inside it."

"Odd? Explain."

Maka concentrated on the faintest stirrings of the soul inside the mansion. It pulsed sporadically…like flickering flame that was holding on to its flame with the barest strength.

"Whoever's inside is weakening fast….life-force is wavering…flickering like a candle flame in the wind…"

Kid nodded. The reports they received stated that this was the residence of a former witch that denounced her powers when she fell in love. She was inactive for years and was generally believed to have lived as a simple human until a decade ago. Then weird events started cropping up near her area and then finally it stopped just as abruptly. After years of silence the Death City Council decided to investigate what really happened to the area and the witch in question.

"Stay back…we'll move in as cautiously as possible. I can use Soul Perception when I have to. Black Star, Tsubaki, go!"

"Hai!"

Maka followed behind, her eyes darting here and there as her sight adjusted from the bright light outside to the consuming darkness within the mansion walls. Kid declined the use of any lights as it would alert their target to their presence. Black Star and Tsubaki lead their formation as they treaded the halls carefully. They almost reached the center of the room when Maka's eyes caught something on her peripheral vision.

The human-like lump sat on an antique pianoforte…the spindles and strings gleaming amidst the obvious mark of years of squalor. On Kid's signal, Liz and Patty pulled at the tattered drapes that encased the house in gloom. They braced themselves for any retaliation on the part of the witch but they might as well have been invisible for the attention she gave them.

When the faint ray of sunlight filtered into the room, the figure was revealed to be that of an old woman sitting ramrod straight on the piano bench, her small body dressed in threadbare gown of velvet, the ragged edge of her lace cuff visible and disconcerting against the pristine ivory keys. Her hair, confined in what was once a neat chignon now hung like raw silk around a face that once might have been quite beautiful. They were surprised when she spoke just as Kid was about to move a step closer.

"Hello. Are you a guest? Did you come for something? I'm sorry I didn't here the door. Did my maid announce you? Would you like some tea?"

* * *

**SOUL**

It took nearly all of his considerable self-control for Soul not to start blasting his relative through the roof. Had he been so inclined, he would have torn a strip off this man that bore his father's face and brought bitter reminders of the life he left behind. He stared at the framed painting of Monet's "Water lilies" that graced one wall—a gift from Maka. One of the many she gave for no reason other than it would bring him a smile. The image and the memory cooled the sudden surge of his blood and he found the calm necessary to attack the matter in hand. He turned to face his unexpected guest and smiled wearily before shoving his hands into his pocket.

"Uncle…go home. What you need is an investigator and the local police. Sentimentality or a belated sense of filial responsibility holds no sway here. You don't need me."

"Soul, how can I just go home without you? I can't--!" the words dried up as quickly as they were uttered. His uncle's gaze became furtive and a visible flush marked his high cheekbones. Soul's eyes pierced him when their eyes met and the older man turned his face away.

"They told you not to come back if you can't produce the Evans spare didn't they Uncle. That's why you were so desperate to get to me. Why don't you level with me and tell me really what went on after my folks and Wes vanished."

His Uncle looked pained but he gathered his resolve and plunged straight into a detailed explanation of the situation. He settled more fully into the couch and took a deep breath.

"The business has expanded a great deal since you left. We Evans' know little else but create wealth. But along with the wealth came power and influence. And with those things come a whole slew of problems." His uncle ran a distracted hand through his hair and continued where he left off. "People found the fact that we haven't yet had a proverbial fall irritating. There were many holding the opinion that we were acquiring far too much wealth. That alone could have been excused but we had influence, an old name and a reputation for getting what we want no matter who or what stood in the way—that made people afraid."

"I know what the Evans name entails. Precisely because of the fact that I'm no longer one, I am aware of what they mean. It was only time before someone tried you down a peg or two. Making you fall would mean there'll be someone else who'd have the place you'd vacate. It's called envy Uncle Creed. Humans have always had it."

"It's not like I couldn't understand where they were coming from. But the Evans' are an ambitious lot. But more than anything we persevere. Critics call it ruthlessness--!"

"Critics don't have to. To be born an Evans is to be born with the instinct to go for the jugular in any fight and come out winning."

"We are survivors Soul. That's all we've been doing all these years. Surviving and somehow thankfully coming up on top. Now, people with too much ambition and less sense to work for it would destroy us for having done nothing but work all the way to the top."

The bitterness in his uncle's voice was all too obvious to Soul but what made him pause was the all too real anguish that bracketed the sides of the older man's face. His eyes were tortured and helplessness burned in them like foreign flame. Soul decided he pussy-footed long enough. Time to draw out the heavy artillery, so to speak.

"While I can understand the feeling—why don't you cut me some slack and stop looping through all this cruddy lines Uncle Creed. Spill it."

"What the hell are you talking about!~ I am telling you--!"

The outraged flush on his uncle's handsome face didn't faze Soul. He walked directly into his uncle's line of vision and pinned the man with a look straight from the eyes of an enraged weapon. Soul Eater Evans was not speaking anymore. This time, the interrogator was the Demon Scythe himself.

And for the first time in his privileged life, Creed Romulus Evans was silenced by the awe-inspiring presence of someone far stronger and more powerful than even the threat of his name.

"Tell me Uncle Creed, where's your beloved wife? Is she with my parents when they vanished? That's the real reason you came out of retirement and dealt with this fiasco isn't it?"

"How--!"

"Hmm… let me guess, "Soul braced his arms on his thigh, palms held together fingertips pressed one against the other Lips pursed, he murmured softly, "I'd bet the Old Guards are up to its usual trick. They demanded the Main Family to produce the heretofore curiously absent spare to ensure that the bloodline would survive should anything happen to those missing. Since you told no one of the fact that they were actually kidnapped and since no ransom exists, you can't call in the law enforcement types just dying to offer you assistance. Ergo, you had the miserable task of hauling your ass all over the world looking for me since Gramps wouldn't give you the time of day. Isn't that the real reason why you're knocking on my door?"

A strangled moan escaped his Uncle before the man was finally able to string together a suitable response.

"Yes."

* * *

**MAKA**

Her voice was soft, chilling in its child-like cadence. There wasn't any mistaking the madness that tinged her unfocused, fevered blue eyes as she rattled off pleasantries as if seeing and existing in another time…another place.

"I am so sorry for not answering the door. There has been so many things that I needed to attend to and people are always coming and going. Have you seen the garden? The roses are in bloom and it will be just in time too."

Kid took a step closer and motioned for them to keep their distance. He faced the pale faced witch and tried to ask her a question once more.

"Are you the one they call Medea of the Meadows? Is that your name?"

"Oh did you come for a lesson? I'm sorry but the piano isn't up to its standard. My tuner hasn't arrived yet but if you would be willing to wait I'm sure we could continue then."

Her eyes fell on the pianoforte and a remembering smile slashed across her lips as her fingers stroked the ivory keys. "You know…my piano tuner hasn't been around since he last left…he told me to wait for him…he's the only one that ever touched this piano…"

"Medea…do you know what year it is?"

"Oh dear of course! It is spring now, isn't it? I'm going to get married in tomorrow. There's a lot of things to be done yet but we promised--my fiancé and I that we would get the piano working before then…he's my tuner you know…but he hasn't come home yet…so I'll wait until then…I'm sure he'll be home soon…soon…"

Medea nodded as if confirming something in her mind. She smiled at something that only she could see and Maka felt her heart constrict at the empty look in her eyes. The witch was trapped in a world of her own. But for some reason her words caused tears to pool in Maka's eyes, cascading down her cheeks in a silent stream that she could no more stop than she could explain.

"Maka-chan…?"

The distress in Tsubaki's voice called her back from the sight of the old woman and Maka tried to gather her composure once more.

"I'm sorry Tsubaki-chan its just…she's—I think she's been waiting here for that man ever since he—look at her gown…" Maka's voice on the word and as one her companions looked. Liz and Patty gasped aloud and Tsubaki had to put a hand to her mouth to stop the sound of distress. Kid's lips thinned as he realized what caused Maka's distress.

The witch known as Medea was not just wearing any gown. In the growing strength of sunlight penetrating the gloomy interior, he finally recognized what she wore.

_It was a __wedding gown._

_

* * *

_ _**Can't keep believing,  
We're only deceiving ourselves .  
And I'm sick of the lie,  
And you're too late.**_


	12. Taunts, Traps and Partings

Authors Note: Same intensity I fear. The humor will be back I promise. Its just the set-up needs to be complete before anything else. Thanks ever so much for the feedback and please fell free to tell me how I can improve this piece. - kuroren23

* * *

_**Close you eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams**_

_**Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before**_

_**Close your eyes let your spirit start to soar**_

_**And you'll live as you've never lived before**_

_-- "Music of the Night"  
_

**_

* * *

_SOUL**

The somnolent look on his uncle face and form was belied by the smoldering fire burning behind the Evan's distinctive cognac-colored eyes that characterized all the true-blooded members of the clan. Soul understood that for his uncle there was no option out of his and the family's current situation. His uncle is prepared to drag him back home, gagged and bound, if need be, to ensure that he does what is needed—what is he tracked his uncle's movement around the apartment Soul thought of alternatives that he could propose to the man—anything to prevent his inevitable sojourn back into the arms of his awaiting clan.

"Where were they taken and when?" he inquired after a beat. The question clearly surprised his uncle and Soul could tell the man is still struggling under the misconception that his beloved nephew is still the same inept, moody kid that was once known as the Main Family spare.

Creed tried to recall the events leading up to the main members of the Evans clan.

"It was one of our charity balls. Ones sponsored and regularly attended by the family. I think it was in Sicily or in Rome. It happened nearly two months ago. Since then we have been waiting for a ransom demand—anything to tell us where they were or what their captors wanted but there was nothing. Not a damn thing. You can find out the rest when we go back to Winterlance. Someone will bring you up to speed on what has been done so far."

Mentioning the old family seat caused goose bumps to break out on Soul's skin but he concealed the tell-tale mark by smoothing his hand over his forearm and moving to a more convenient spot. The name triggered memories—both bitter and sweet and while he could stand swapping family jokes and innuendos without flinching—the memory of his old home still holds a faint spell over him.

Soul could recall the faint scent of beeswax and polish that permeated the music rooms where he played as a child…the softness of the thick carpets beneath his feet as he ran through the different wings of the mansion. The lingering perfume of the damask roses that his mother favored decorating the many rooms that made up the family suite.

Soul took a deep breath and tried to shake off the melancholy that gripped him. His old home was integral to the part of him that still felt a connection to his old life. However, that part of him is only a small fraction of the Soul that now resides in Death City. _And the Soul that exists as Maka Albarn's Weapon, as Demon Scythe, is the true Soul._

"I told you I have no intention of coming back with you. It might be a little difficult for an Evans to understand the concept of independence but since I'm no longer one—I would appreciate it if you keep things in perspective."

"Soul, we are talking about your parents here and Wes! And my wife, Soul! They are family! Your family! Our family! Surely this place hasn't leeched out enough of your heart for you to be so stubborn against filial duty?"

The contempt in his uncle's voice caused Soul to take a step back. It was either that or take a swipe that bears the same face as his own sire. He breathed deeply, trying desperately to control the fire in his blood and the red haze of fury that hovered in his gaze. He tilted his chin down, hiding behind the curtain of his hair as he gathered his control ever closer to himself but nothing could disguise the cutting edge on his soft cold tone.

"Stop it. Don't say one more word."

"Oh for pity's sake boy don't be so sensitive! When it comes down to it, this place is a dump. Whatever prompted an Evans to settle for such mundane surroundings."

"Don't."

"Look at this place! Look at you! You're a son of a wealthy industrialist. You could've pursued the same career as Wes or even taken over the helm after you father—instead you headed over the border of civilization and exiled yourself to this burg."

"That is quite enough."

Soul walked towards his uncle and stood directly in front of man. Creed frowned wanting to insist that his nephew resist this penchant for ultimatums and theatrics but something prevented him from the scathing repartee burning on his tongue. Whether is was tact, the sudden presence of his nephew in front of him or an in-born sense of self-preservation, Creed was later thankful for whatever it was that stayed his wayward tongue.

He felt something cold brush against his throat and for a moment he entertained the wild notion that his nephew finally snapped and withdrew a dagger from somewhere in his person. The feeling went away after a beat and the icy feeling left him but in its place was a damp, burning sensation. Fumbling with a handkerchief when the dampness began to sting, Creed was shocked to realize that there on his neck was a small, almost invisible puncture mark. At the sight of blood, Creed's skin bleached into the exact color of ivory linen.

"You--!!! You cut me!!! Soul you violent freak---!!! What did you do that for? Gods! Is this what this place taught you--? No wonder you were exiled here with that kind of tendency--! It stings dammit!" he yelled, outrage and something else flashing in his eyes but his cries were soon silenced by the look Soul leveled his way.

"Let this be a warning of sorts Creed Romulus Evans—the last one I will issue on the matter, to be sure—so if I were you, I'd pay real close attention." Soul murmured softly but the sound carried well over all four corners of the apartment. It was a testament to Soul's skill and the efforts of Black Star to teach him ninja techniques that he managed to reach his uncle's side before any of the half a dozen body guards his uncle brought with him could even react or follow him with their eyes. Soul commended their decision to stay well away from him and to not participate in this little family bonding.

"Are you listening real well Uncle Creed?"

The man could only manage to nod as his hands were kept somewhere on the vicinity of his nicked throat, the cut minute in size but bleeding in a steady trickle.

"This is my home. This is the one place I chose to be in—and MY choice is all that matters in this conversation. You don't have any right to tell me what I can and can not do. Especially when your so-called filial duties didn't see it fit to wonder if I was still alive after I banished myself to the ends of the earth. As far as I'm concerned you and all the other Evans' out there are just strangers who happened to share the same name I am inadvertently born with."

Without a shift in his stance or even a break in his calm breathing Soul morphed ne arm into a scythe's blade. He watched the horrified awareness wash over Creed's eyes and noted that his family knew his condition and was well acquainted with none of them. They took the notion of 'weapon' as a term and not in context.

"Y-y-ou--! T-t-that--!!Y-y-you're a-arm--!!"

"Weapon. That's what I am. You and the other Evans' better not forget that fact. That's my truth Uncle Creed. I am the Demon Scythe."

* * *

**MAKA**

Maka's heart twisted at the figure of the witch they were supposed to arrest and take into custody. Clad in the frayed and tattered remains of what should've been her wedding gown, now it hangs over her bony, emaciated frame, kept on her body like some macabre death shroud, and clutched in one of her hands a long-wilted bouquet.

The witch Medea looked out into the dead garden with a faint haunting smile on her thin cracked lips, seeing a sight only she knew—remembering or perhaps living in a mirage that even time could not intrude against.

"She doesn't seem to see us or at least—she doesn't know what we are. I guess no one predicted she was like this when the preliminary investigation was conducted."

Black Star's assessment of the situation only added to the silent ache in Maka's heart and she clenched her empty hands tighter to her side, her nails biting into the soft flesh of her palm. She wanted to turn away from the heart-wrenching image, wanting nothing more to remind her of the sad plight that sometimes touched humankind. She also wanted no more reminders of the parallels in her own sad situation even as her own voice inside her mind mocked her efforts at composure.

_**Medea spent decades waiting for the love of her life that went away. I might as well spend the same amount of time pining after the one heart I could never claim as my own.**_

"I wouldn't put it past the old witch to have some tricks up her sleeve Black Star."

The harsh words shattered the fragile air of despair and sadness that enveloped them since entering the dilapidated mansion. As one they turned towards Kid and Maka wondered at how vividly alive and vital the Death God seemed even within the confines of this house of death. His soul pulsated with vitality, casting a light all around, making Maka's eyes follow him despite the melancholy that gripped her mere moments ago.

"What do you mean Kid? The old broad's about to crack and if she doesn't, well she's certainly nuttier than an old fruitcake. Let's just take her and deliver her as ordered. There's no fight here for someone as great as me. I should've known that they could never get the better of someone who surpasses god! Hahaha!" Black Star's laughed echoed all over the house before it the sound suddenly vanished as if cut off by some invisible buffer. The smile on Black Star's face was wiped away as quickly as the light of battle entered his eyes.

"That was strange."

"I'm surprised we didn't notice is sooner." The grimness in Kid's voice caught Maka's ears and something inside her snapped into wakefulness. Closing her eyes, she cleared her mind of the sight of tragedy that greeted their eyes when they first came in. She silenced her own thoughts and yearnings and simply centered herself in the quiet of her own soul. The first stirring of icy air caught the edge of her senses but she proved even deeper. In the silence of the pulsing darkness that surrounded the mansion, she listened closely. A stray wind blew inside the chamber they occupied causing the strings of the pianoforte to quiver as if plucked and in the lingering echoes Maka saw the elaborately set-up trap they walked into. Maka's eyes popped open and she opened her lips to issue a desperate warning.

"Kid! It's a trap!!! This is a portal! There is a spell drawn beneath the carpet. She's chaining our souls into the house!!!" she screamed.

The group immediately leaped into the air, Black Star using Tsubaki's chain to hold the group aloft but Maka's jump was ill-timed. The witch vanished from their sight in a cloud of smoke only to reappear beneath their swinging mass, reaching up to grab Maka.

"You belong to me now! You are mine!"

They swung from the chained form of Tsubaki and landed on the balcony. They took up fighting positions but soon realized that with Maka in the witch's grasp they had to wait for an opportunity to free her first before capturing the witch.

"Maka-chan!!!!" Tsubaki's scream echoed in the room. Liz and Patty looked at Kid waiting for his instruction when Kid shook his head.

"Kid!"

"She's holding Maka. It's too close and Maka can't move. We have to wait."

The strength in the bony hand surprised Maka and she felt the floor rush up to meet her as her body slammed into the wooden floor, immediately becoming immobile as the spell cast by the witch took effect, literally holding her steady on the floor like some perversely mounted doll.

"Maka-chan!!" Patty cried as the witch crouched next to Maka and Kid had to hold her back.

"You can sense souls then dearie…it's a pity you weren't here when she came and took him away…" the witch's voice was raspy from long disuse. But it was her eyes that held Maka riveted. They were no longer empty. They were alight with the madness that consumed her from within. The sight alone would've been more than enough to scare anyone but Maka felt something else from within the abyss of insanity that peeked from within those wasted blue eyes. Maka's eyes burned with the tears she struggled mightily to keep from falling.

"What do you want…?"the questioned slipped out before Maka had time to think things through.

"What I want doesn't matter. Nothing again will ever matter." Medea murmured as she sat astride Maka's abdomen, straddling her torso. The witch plucked a jeweled skean dhu and twirled it in the light before proceeding to slice through Maka's black sweater. "You see, if I had known that a mere mortal would've taken everything of value I held dear, I would have sacrificed my magic and became one. Do you understand?"

Maka shook her head. "No…"

The witch gave her a sad smile.

"Me too… I didn't think our love was that fragile—that easily forsaken. But it happened you know…he took one look at her and forgot his promise. He swore to love me…only me…for ever and ever…even beyond death…but he left…he left me…for her!" With that the witches face transformed into a hideous mask of rage and fury. She dropped the knife and ripped the ends of the black cloth until her talon-tipped hand touched skin and flesh.

She traced Maka's smooth skin and turned to pick up the discarded when the light picked up the gleam of the chain around her neck. The witch's eyes gleamed before they widened in shock. Her hands plucked at the chain and the pendant that swung defiantly in the air.

The silence only lasted a split second before fury darkened the witch's eyes turning them completely black and an inhuman shriek ripped from her throat. She latched onto Maka's neck and proceeded to strangle her.

"Maka!!" Kid jumped.

"Maka-chan!!" Tsubaki morphed back into her human form just as Black Star reached the witch's side yelling.

"Oi Maka!!"

Even when the others landed next to their entwined bodies and Black Star tried to pry the witch's hands off nothing happened. Madness gave her a strength they never expected.

"You! Bearer of his mark!!! Bearer of his blood!!! I can sense him in you!! That lying infidel! That faithless swine that took no shame in forsaking my love for the passing fancy of a mere mortal!!! You took him from me you harlot!!! Whore!!!!"

And with that the witch was consumed with the dark pulsating cloud of complete insanity. She squeezed Maka's throat and was about to plunge a taloned fist into Maka's chest when her eyes fell on her captive's face and her eyes followed the drop of tear caught on the edge of Maka's lashes. The drop gave way to a flood of tears that Maka couldn't stop…no more than she could stop the words that flowed past her lips.

"I-i….s-sorry…."

The words galvanized something inside the witch. With a surge of power she hadn't used in years, her lips formed the words of a spell they couldn't hear. A blood red glow enveloped the witch's right hand. Standing, she lifted Maka off the floor and held her aloft like a ruined rag doll. Still whispering the spell she was casting, she plunged her hand through Maka's chest drawing out a shimmering thread that Kid saw with a pained look in his eyes before it vanished. She tossed the unconscious Maka to the floor before leveling a look at the young Reaper.

"My deed is done here. My revenge is complete. Now she will suffer as I have—existing as I have—without a fragment of my soul…"A cruel smile lingered in her lips before giving a final twitch only to fall on the ground.

* * *

_The moment the witch thrust her cursed hand into the Angel of Death's body, somewhere in Death City the Demon Scythe felt a fist clench his heart in an unforgiving vice and fell unconscious on the floor of the apartment he shared with his partner. He would later wake to a world vastly altered from the one he left in a haze of consuming, numbing pain._

_

* * *

  
_

_**Floating, falling, sweet intoxication  
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation  
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in  
To the power of the music that I write  
The power of the music of the night  
**_


	13. Strikes and Strings

Authors Note: Standard disclaimer applies. SE is not mine and I have no intention of assuming that it is. That being said a few notations about the succeeding chapters and events. First I have no idea--as of yet--how Professor Stein will fare in the SE Universe so for the sake of this story, let us assume that he recovered and functions as an even better scientist than before. Second, I will make a great leap in creating a background for Soul--therefore it is reasonable that I give names to his parents some time soon. If ever their real ones are revealed, I will then, make the necessary alterations. All else--characters not licensed by the manga are all by-products of my demented mind. As always I want to express my gratitude for those that reviewed and thinks that my writing has the tiniest smidgen of potential. Many thanks --kuroren23

* * *

**_Gravity is working against me  
And gravity wants to bring me down  
Oh, I'll never know what makes this man  
With all the love that his heart can stand  
Dream of ways to throw it all away_**

**_-_**_ "Gravity" jmayer_

_

* * *

_**LIZ POV**

There were few instances when I wish I had been given the power to turn back time...to possess the strength necessary to change the outcome of events so that things I've lost control over could be fixed…things that were compromised and broken to be mended once more…

After Maka bellowed her warning none of us had any time to do anything other than just react. And in the span of time it took for us to jump to safety one of us was falling to my newest definition of hell on earth. It took considerable effort for us to keep Black Star and Kid from jumping right into the fray. Tsubaki was hard-pressed to keep her chain-form and we were all hanging there like an exotic chandelier desperately looking for a way to rescue Maka.

When it was all over—while the witch lay dead beneath our feet, I could still feel the tension radiating inside the room—the belated shock and surprise that caught us all in its grip. I heard the distant sound of splintering wood followed by the outraged bellows composed of the words that sounded like "Greater than God" and "She stole my spotlight!" The ranting was followed by the soft comforting murmur of Tsubaki's voice as she attempted to distract her feisty Meister.

I never knew of an instance stronger than the wanting I felt at that moment…

I knew that what I want was an impossible thing to have. I live with a real-life god…had been with him for nearly a decade now and I even inhabit a place where things magical and improbable occur almost naturally—and yet the yearning is there—stronger now that I have to watch the people I consider foremost to be the closest thing I have to family watch as one of us got thrashed and endangered by an enraged witch.

The screams that came out of Maka's throat would haunt me later in the day…just as I knew they would make Patty cry when she finally sleeps in my arms—a habit ingrained from years of surviving on our own on the streets. But I suppose next to the horrifying sight of Maka's prone figure on the floor it was the look on my Meister's face that rammed home the bitter after-taste of defeat and failure that now chilled the blood in my veins.

My Meister is a proud man—filled with insecurity and obsessive as he was with his quest to make the whole world symmetrical, he was a sweet, surprisingly innocent man who saw the world for what it was and what it could be and still wish he could right some of its wrongs. Seldom has he been forced to watch helplessly on the sidelines as things spiral out of control. And now I have to watch him walk around the sight of this uncanny carnage—a direct act of willful evil against one of those that gained his respect—one whom he consider his friends and see the eyes of the boy I loved like a brother darken with pain and bitter humiliation…

* * *

**KID**

_**I failed….**_

He knows that the entire debacle was his burden to bear. Nothing—not the inept reporting nor the fact that surveillance failed to ascertain the exact information about the witch they were supposed to take into custody. It was the height of irony that he was there to offer protection and sanctuary to someone they assumed was weak and helpless.

_**I am too weak…and no one too weak to save a comrade should be allowed to rule over anything…care for anything or anyone...**_

The defeated echo of his own voice made his gut clench but he resisted showing any outward sign of distress. He couldn't afford anymore slip-ups. He failed to protect one of his comrades in the midst of a mission. A failure that should never be permitted—one he himself would never have tolerated had it been committed by someone else. But far worse than the botched job was the glaring truth that he allowed something like this to happen.

_**I was being presumptive...it was foolish to assume that just because the information was there that it was infallible...this is what I reap for my naivete...  
**_

"Kid?"

"Tell Black Star to take Maka to Death City as fast as he can. Tell him to stop for nothing and no one until he places her inside the walls of Shibusen and find Professor Stein. He has to see her. Have Tsubaki come with him and make sure that he isn't distracted. She needs to locate Soul as quickly as they could manage. He would want to know about this."

"Alright. Patty come on."

"Right-o!!"

The child-like chirp sounded like a clarion call for him and he felt some of the fiercest sparks of his fury lessen to a more manageable level. He was about to turn away when the same voice called out to him.

"Kid?"

"Patty, no, Kid's busy--!"

Liz immediately tried to hush her younger twin, casting anxious glances at him but he waved away the hesitation in her eyes and looked down at the smaller of his two weapons.

"Yes Patty?"

"It wasn't your fault you know…Maka-chan will be alright. You and Professy Steiny and Soul will make her better right? So don't make such a face."

"I'll try not to…"

With her thoughts aired out to her satisfaction, the waif-like weapon turned away to drag her older sister by the hand to carry out the duties assigned by their Meister.

He watched as Liz and Patty lifted the unconscious figure of the Angel of Death unto Black Star's back. The ninja was the only one with enough speed to reach Death City in time enough to do anything with the damages she sustained. He knew that Liz would give the orders to Tsubaki to clear the path ahead of Black Star to allow nothing to hinder them from reaching the hospital and Professor Stein. Only he could assess the situation with fair accuracy and come up with a precise diagnosis to save their fallen friend. He could only pray that they weren't too late.

_**I can't allow myself to think that way. She will be alright. She has to be.**_

_**

* * *

**_Liz and Patty stood warily beside him. The years have strengthened their bonds and the twins knew what he was going through. The sharp edge of disappointment and shame brewing bitterly in his blood was enough to tell them that the best thing they could do was simply stay beside him and keep their silence.

He walked towards the area where the witch stood and stabbed her hand through Maka's chest. He stood on the exact spot and tried to reconstruct the scene piece by excruciating piece—like some deranged movie that he needs to splice and rewind until he could analyze and study each scene—freezing each panel, each slide to find out what he was looking for. He remembered two flashes of light—though he wasn't certain anyone else noticed the second, far more significant one.

The first spark was invisible to the others he was certain. Only those with soul perception could see what it was that that vile mad witch ripped out of the trapped Meister. And with Maka too lost in the agony of pain due to what was happening to her he doubts she would have had the presence of mind to pay attention. But he saw it.—all too clearly and even now his blood runs cold at the image it plays over and over inside his mind's eye.

The witch ripped out a piece of Maka's soul. Not all of it, he was certain because though unconscious she was still alive. He never thought the idea was even feasible—and there has never been any case like that.

However that wasn't the end of it. He was certain the soul fragment the witch tossed aside like so much excess thread wasn't the only thing she discarded. This raises the question regarding the second spark he saw. Allowing instinct and memory to guide him, he trudged along the length of the abandoned room where the incident took place. Liz looked at her technician in puzzlement when the young Death God started mumbling.

"Kid? Is something wrong?"

An incoherent mumble was his only response. Worried, Liz, came closer and laid her right hand on one of Kid's shoulder.

"Kid? Tell us what you want and Patty and I could help—Kid?"

"Kid's being a big idiot again Nee-chan. He wants a ruler and chalk."

"A ruler and chalk? For what?"

He grunted a reply, incensed that he needed to explain. Surely such an idea is glaringly obvious to everyone.

"I need to look for something."

Liz frowned in puzzlement.

"You want to look for something? Then tell us what it is and we'll help you. Three pairs of eyes are better than just one you know."

"I have every intention of letting you help but before that we must prepare the room. That's why I was looking for a ruler and chalk. Patty, have you found some?"

"Ah . But I found lots of strings."

The Death God sighed. It was an emergency. He supposed he would have to make do. He instructed the twins to form a grid using the strings. The task should've taken no more than ten minutes but typical of any task assigned by Kid with him there to supervise—the grid-making took half an hour.

"No! Patty move the string to your left. About one-eight of an inch more. Yes! There! Now we can start!"

"Ah Kid?"

"Yes Liz?"

"Now that we have this grid—what exactly are we looking for?"

"The thing that sparked in the light when the witch released Maka from her grip. Something flashed then and I have a hunch we need it."

"You made a grid to look for something that sparkled?"

"Indeed. I told you I feel like we need it."

"Kid, tell me something."

"Hmm…what is it?"

"This thing that flashed—did you see it leave the room where we were attacked?"

"That would be impossible."

"Then why in the hell did you make us put strings all over the place?!!!!!"

"Because to look for something, one should always be methodical. Now be quiet and help me look. We'll start with the first quadrant!"

"No! Let's just look for it!"

The argument lasted for a few more minutes and he loathes conceding the point about stringing the whole house when the event occurred in a single room. A good tactician always allows for surprises and must have contingencies prepared a head of time. In truth, he was so enamored to the argument he was having with Liz that he failed to recognize the item that was swinging like a pendulum clutched in Patty's right hand.

"Patty?"

"Yes Kid?"

"Isn't that Maka's pendant?"

"I think it is. I saw it when we were about to leave Death City. Why are you asking?"

"Because that's what we were looking for Patty."

"Oh."

"When did you find it?"

"Before I found the string."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Hoe? You never asked Kid!!!"

* * *

**_Gravity is working against me_**

**_And gravity wants to bring me down_**

**_Oh, twice as much ain't twice as good_**

**_And can't sustain like one half could_**

**_It's wanting more that's gonna send me to my knees_**

**_Gravity, stay the hell away from me_**

**_And gravity has taken better men than me_**

**_Now how can that be_**

**_

* * *

  
_**


	14. Waiting, Waking and Wailing

Authors Note: The scene where S&M will reunite is a delicate dance I am approaching as carefully as possible since i genuinely feel that I have yet to achieve the necessary skill. It is so much easier seeing the stories unfold as a visual inside my head than as words written on paper. So for the meantime, just wait with me. Many thanks to those that reviewed and speculated on what would happen next. I am happy to say that I have no idea yet--because I only know what to write the moment I see a word on my screen. Until then--its pretty much just random imaginings. Wish me luck--kuroren 23

ITALICS = Dream sequence.

* * *

**TSUBAKI**

The frantic dash towards home has never felt so long or so slow. And although she knew they were making excellent time as they raced through the forest in a headlong flight that would take us to Death City she could not escape the feeling that time was racing right along them—waiting for a chance to snatch the only hope they have of saving Maka. If they were lucky they'll reach the edge of Death City just after dawn breaks over the sky.

Deep within her she feared for their companion's chances of coming out of this attack unscathed. Maka's will was strong—almost as strong as Black Star's but she is still so young…and right now, she looked so fragile as Black Star carried her on his back, his tanned arms a jarring sight when contrasted against Maka's ashen skin.

Even with the few feet that separated them, she could feel his anger…and the worry that he tries so hard to conceal beneath the bluster of his words and his normal exuberance. Her Meister might not act with the same savoir-faire as Soul-kun but he feels just as strongly about the companions that accepted him into their fold. He grew up alone and so he has never gotten into the habit of caring or worrying for anyone other than himself. But in spite of it all, her Meister cared deeply for the woman he carried on his back. She knew he would do anything to save their friend.

She knew many misunderstood him…many thought that he was very much like his clansmen before him—power-hungry and ambitious—unable to contain the madness that seemed to be a cursed vein within his own bloodline. Gifted with the skills of a formidable assassin and born with unusually powerful souls…he was intended for greatness. Mediocrity was not something he could or would ever settle into.

But Black Star grew up with the innate affinity towards kindness and justice and never hesitated to lend a hand whenever it was required (or not) of him. Being the last of his clan is something he never thought much about—their friends and her family has given Black Star the semblance of a family. And now that that family is facing a crisis, Black Star has risen beautifully to the challenge.

He already gave further instructions regarding Maka's care. She would stay behind and care for Maka until Black Star locates and delivers Professor Stein to the door of her room. Until then, barring Soul-kun or the Reaper himself, no one would be allowed to have access to their friend.

"Black Star--!"

"Don't worry. She'll make it. Maka wouldn't let some smelly witch get the best of her or else I would really whip her butt the next time she's awake."

"I really hope you're right…she looks so pale…"

"She—Soul would never let her give up just like that. She needs to fight for that idiot."

"I see…you may be right Black Star."

"Maybe? There is no maybe there! I'm always right. Someone greater than a god should always be right. I am the great Black Star. "

"That you are."

She knows her Meister works best under pressure. She could only hope that it would not get to the point where they would be too late to do anything to help her. She could only pray too, that Soul-kun would be there to welcome them back.

* * *

**SOUL **

_Darkness consumed him…sucking him into a world of pain. The throbbing ache was both familiar and unfamiliar—it called to mind the same shock of pain that burst through him when he received the wound that caused that accursed black blood to flow into his veins but this pain was also a thousand times more agonizing—more fearful than the threat of losing control that accompanied the taint of black blood._

_Instinctively he retreated to the dark music room that embodied his own soul-world but for some reason he couldn't access it. All he could see was an endless maze of doors that led to a forest filled with leaves made of emerald greens and gold…the forest led to an old mansion that bore a starling resemblance to his own old home that for a moment he hesitated before entering. The heavy oak doors swung open and led to corridors upon corridors of books. When he tried to reach for one, the book screamed, the piercing shriek echoing and re-echoing all around him forcing him to close the book. The next ones he touched were even stranger. When he opened the page it didn't scream but the words written on the pages were slowly being erased, as if a great hand were methodically and systematically removing every line, every mark from the bound pages leaving behind nothing but pristine paper. Still others dissolved beneath the very tips of his hand when he brushed against their spines._

_At the very end of the extremely long, book-filled hall was a pedestal lighted by an intense overhead light source. The light illuminated an ancient tome, heavily decorated and worked with gold. The leaves were gilt-edged and held close by a pair of gold fastenings. The heavy book was locked, as he would later find out when he tried to flip open a page but for some reason the book called Maka to mind. It was like a physical embodiment of his Meister—intense, gilded and filled with many secrets—yielding only to those who would be patient and persistent enough._

_His fingers traced the lock absently, running the sensitive pads of his pianist hands over the raised surface, something tickling at the back of his mind. The shape of the lock nagged at him and he wanted a moment to see if he could remember what it was the lock reminded him of._

_In that moment between the space of one breath and another as he was stabbed with another kind of body-numbing fire that felt like his very soul was branded and set aflame he heard a scream echo in the swirling abyss of pain that consumed him. The name whispered through his mind with the force of hurricane forcing his eyes open and his lips parting on a voiceless scream._

_**Maka**_

Soul bolted upright and noted that he woke up in darkness, knowing instinctively that something bad just happened somewhere in the world. No…he amended, not some random part of the world—not any world—the uneasy feeling came from his world—Shibusen. Something uncanny was happening on his turf and Maka was somehow involved. And here he was with the mother of all headaches, disoriented and apparently with no idea where he was.

_**Well one things for damn certain…I'm nowhere near my bedroom or in the apartment. **_

_**

* * *

**_**TSUBAKI**

Exhaustion made her body feel heavy and she wished she could just close her eyes but it wasn't meant to be. The room was quickly filling with sounds and she was afraid of what will happen if she leaves HIM alone with her wounded friend. HIM being Maka's loud, wailing, weeping, hysterical father. It took all of her training not to sink on the floor beside Maka's bed and just sleep. It was either that or hit the howling man that was quickly making a puddle of his tears appear not two feet away from his prone daughter. Tsubaki was tempted to just call out for Nigus-sensei to haul the babbling, hysterical man outside the room so that they could give the patient much needed peace and quiet. Closing her eyes, she tried to center herself and calm the unease writhing like a snake inside her.

The steady measure of footsteps out in the hall sounded unnaturally loud in the otherwise deserted hall. She gave out a sigh of relief and resisted the urge to throw herself in the newcomer's arms for her apparent rescue.

"Professor Stein…I'm so glad he found you."

"He did drag me in here."

It was only then did her eyes focus on what the professor was wearing. It was the oddest pair of mismatched patterned pajama set that bore more than a passing resemblance to a patchwork quilt a child under seven who never worked with a needle and thread before would make.

"Where is Black Star Professor?"

"He said he's picking up something."

"Picking up something?"

"I think he means Soul."

* * *

**SOUL  
**

The throbbing headache that threatened to split his head in half subsided bit by bit but not quickly enough to make him appreciate the fact. Gingerly, he tossed aside the deep burgundy silk blankets and slid out of bed. His bare toes curled instinctively against the cool silken feel of the carpet beneath his feet as he padded, naked, towards the heavy drapes that shielded the room from any invasive light.

He reached for the bell pull that acts a cleverly disguised control for the drapery and gave it a tug. Damask slid with the faintest whisper as they parted open, allowing the room to be flooded with the warmth of early morning sun. The light gave him a clear view of his surroundings but the sight of the four poster French colonial furniture gave no indication of his location. Sighing, he stepped closer to the windows and worked one of the panels free until he could slide it open—welcoming the combined warmth of the sun against his chilled body and the faintest brush of early morning coolness to dry the sweat still lingering on his skin. He closed his eyes, hoping to center himself and find the control necessary to deal with the confrontation he was sure to come.

A knock sounded behind him followed the sound of the door swinging open and Soul gave out a sigh. Apparently he didn't have to wait long before reality intruded on him once again.

"Good morning. I'm glad to find you're finally up and about."

"How long was I out Uncle Creed?'

"A couple of hours—almost half the day actually. When you collapsed on the floor at first I though you had been shot at—we rushed you out and brought you here when we realized you weren't injured at all."

"And where is 'here' exactly, Uncle Creed? I would appreciate the information."

"Here is the only decent hotel within 50 miles of this place. Our people in the main office had to go through so many channels just to set up this second rate suite. It bears the most atrocious moniker of Heaven Resting."

The name informed him that he was well away from the apartment where he lived but not too far out of the city for him to be concerned. As long as he remains within the boundaries of Death City, he could find away to get rid of his unwanted family.

"I already rang for breakfast. Would you like to join me?"

"I don't feel like eating. I'm picky in the mornings with what and who I eat with."

"You have to understand that I panicked. You just fainted dead away and for a moment I feared I caused that. Won't you eat something and just hear me out? If after all that you still don't want anything to do with this fiasco I will leave."

"You will leave?"

"Word of Honor."

"Haha. Funny."

"What—oh..sorry…"

The sheepish laugh that escaped his uncle did much to soothe the gnawing irritation that was simmering in his blood upon waking. The inadvertent mentioning of his mother's name sent a twinge inside Soul—the exact emotion regarding what it was he was feeling he has yet to neither identify nor want to.

"You know Uncle Creed, I am no more an Evans than the guards standing outside that you hired to protect you. I really don't see why you insist I take part on this little act of yours."

"You are very much an Evans, even if you insist on denying the obvious. Have you any idea what kind of things you could accomplish with the family name supporting you?"

"Got news for you Uncle. I have survived pretty well on my own without the Evans name to influence or obstruct my existence. So, frankly I see no reason why I should submit myself to the whims and caprices of dolorous old men."

"The family is facing a very real crisis. We need you at the helm. There are lots of decisions and actions that must be undertaken and the only way we could do that is if you accept your role in the family."

"Correct me if I'm wrong—which – I doubt, but even if I do say I would be insane enough to agree to this second-rate play you're concocting—all that I will do—at the most—is become a very pliable puppet on a very short string. A public face to answer the questions the press and panicking shareholders are dying to throw at you."

"It's not like that--!"

"No, it's exactly that. So the answer Uncle Creed, I'm afraid is no." he stood up and made a move to gather fresh clothes (i.e. a newly bought, expensive and well-made suit) when from outside the suite his ears picked up the sound of a very familiar voice. The voice was followed by the unmistakable sound of bodies and furnishing crashing. His uncle stared at the closed pair of doors warily while it was all Soul could do not to break out in laughter.

"God god! Who is that madman rampaging outside?! Is it an assassin?"

"That, Uncle Creed—is my escort out of here."

When the crashes and cries and yelps died down to agonized moans, the pair heard the clarion call of one satisfied intruder:

"I told you! You are no match for me! I am the best! I am the strongest! I am greater than the gods! I am Black Star!"


	15. Hit and Miss

Authors Note: A little breather. I need to re-align my thoughts regarding how the story would proceed. I do not wish for my story to run the usual course--I like romance like everyone else--but I really like the funny ones the best and making someone smile with words seem to take almost a mystical effort. I don't know how to do that yet. But as you can see, I am trying. Hope it brings a smile to you guys. - kuroren23

* * *

**SOUL  
**

The ride back to Death City took on the hue of a whirling blur—images, sounds, colors that bled into one seamless miasma of impressions that if asked he would not be able to recall or identify with any clarity or coherence. Only one world ran around in his mind with the same persistence as an unwanted mantra: _**Maka was was hurt and here he was unaware of the why's and how's.**_His Meister—his friend, partner, room mate and all-around conscience was lying on a bed in an antiseptic ward in Shibusen—unconscious and unresponsive—because she was attacked while unarmed._**Because he chose NOT to come with her. Because he WASN'T there when she needed him.**_

_**(Flashback)**_

_"You can't be serious about going with that madman Soul! You don't even know if that creature could be reasoned with! He attacked the guards!"_

_"Take it from me Uncle Creed, for as long as I have known that guy, NO ONE has been able to reason with him. If logic is necessary and it doesn't conform to HIS own—the cause and the case might as well be a dead end. There's his logic and then there's just blather."_

_"Then all the more reason you should cease this mad idea of joining with him. You cannot mean to accompany this barbarian back into the hell hole—er—I mean that place we just came from!"_

_"Actually I mean to do more than just accompany him Uncle." With an amused smirk at the appalled look that crossed his uncle's face Soul turned slightly towards the door and raised his voice just a notch to make sure he would be heard outside. "Black Star! Yo!"_

_The doors of the suite burst open, the heavy oak doors shattering as if they were no more than thin slivers of painted cardboard. As always, the sheer presence of Black Star could be intimidating and Soul noted that even lacking soul perception, training or awareness for the strength of souls his Uncle's stance spoke volumes regarding his wariness for the brash and loud-mouthed ninja._

_"YO! Soul! I found you as I knew I would! There simply was no doubt that –the great Black Star--!"_

_"Yeah Yeah. Hey dude. What's up? I haven't been gone that long for you to come looking for me. Did the old man Reaper send for me?" Soul was still smiling as he pulled on his new clothes, thanking his family's keen appreciation for good tailoring as the linen shirt slid smoothly over his skin when he noticed the silence that descended within the room. He turned to look at Black Star, a teasing note ready to spring to his lips at this unaccustomed pause when the sight of him caused ice to form in the pit of Soul's stomach._

_It was if a light was dimmed inside Black Star—extinguishing all his exuberance, all his vibrancy bled out him in that instant and alarm once again lashed within Soul. He kept his patience and waited for Black Star to state his reason for wanting to track him down. He prayed that he wouldn't have to wait long._

_"Soul, the mission we were on was a glaring failure. The reports were flawed and we came in there hardly knowing what we were up against."_

_"I thought the mission was plain recon. The worse thing that it could turn out to be is a chase and possible detention of a witch gone rouge."_

_"I think right now everyone's wishing that it had been a chase and pick up. Sorry man, but Maka's been hurt. She got banged up real bad and we don't know what happened to her exactly. Kid told me to get a hold of Professor Stein and find you after I did."_

_**(End of Flashback)**_

Now here he was, standing just outside the main building of Shibusen, staring at the door like he has never seen it before, like he has never set foot inside its hallowed halls, argued at the top of his lungs within its long corridors and lounged inside its many classrooms. He didn't recall having ordered his body to move and he was vaguely surprised to realize that he now stood in front of the hospital wing, unaware and uncaring of the sight he made during his headlong flight straight into the heart of Shibusen, knowing only a frantic, desperate need to reach her at all cost.

_**Maka…wait for me…**_

He was so focused on gaining access to his Meister that he failed to register the presence of the others all around him. He barely acknowledged the grim look on neither Kid's face nor the sympathetic smile that Liz and Patty tossed his way. He didn't see their former sensei's waiting patiently outside the main hospital recovery wing. He was blind, deaf and uncaring for all that stood between him and the familiar and much longed for sight of his Meister. But before he could take another step someone blocked the strong enough to make him stop in his tracks—a figure he never in a million of years thought he would see standing here in front of him—barring the only path that would take him to her.

**It was Maka's idiotic womanizing pervert of a father. Spirit. Figures.**

Soul decided to wait. Distressed as he may be, this was still a parent and no matter his own situation with his own, at least Maka acknowledged this lecher's claim. He promised himself that he would listen to the man and not give vent to his annoyance. Well, until the man opens his mouth and something utterly brainless spills out. He repeated the vow to himself once more—just to keep things in perspective.

Spirit narrowed his eyes and glared at his daughter's weapon. His fists were curled tightly by his side and his lips compressed to an uncompromising line. His eyes, usually either swimming in tears or twinkling in lecherous mischief and glee now looked darker, deeper and fiercer—as if he was preparing for a very powerful attack. Soul braced himself for the man's next possible move. His blood pounded heavily in his veins and he tried to slow down the loud tattoo of his own heart all the while telling himself why he needs all the patience he could muster.

**_Darn it. He doesn't want to deal with this right now. Why didn't Black Star warn him that this fool's going to be here? Figures…it's an emergency and he just HAS to be here standing guard. The gods really has in for him today…first his uncle and now this…Ok Soul…Calm down boy…you can't beat this fool to the ground even if you want to…you cant pound him within an inch of his miserable philandering life because he is still her father and you can't make her sad._**

Soul watched Spirit straighten up and stride towards him. The normally wriggling mass of a man stood tall in front of him and the look in his eyes were inscrutable. Soul wondered at the barrage of insults and reprimands the man would subjected him to when Spirit finally opened his mouth.

"You--!"

"Spirit—look, I--!"

"Can you tell them to let me in? Kid and Stein kicked me out and they wont let me back in until I behave myself. They said I was loud and interfering but I was just trying to help! Souuuulllllllllll-kunnnnnnn!!!!!!"

Helped him he did. It took him less than half a minute. He knocked Maka's obnoxious wailing father unconscious. Then he walked over his prone body and strode purposely down the hall that ended with the door where she could be found.


	16. Flaws, Faults, Flames

Authors Note: Normal disclaimer applies. Here it is. They are finally being reunited. I hope it has been worth the wait. Thanks to the following: My errant muse and all those that reviewed, read and gave my story even the occasional cursory glance. You have my eternal thanks.-kuroren23. And thanks to the inspiration brought by John Mayer's song. I have always wanted a reason to use this song.

* * *

**_When you're dreaming with a broken heart_**

**_The waking up is the hardest part_**

**_You roll outta bed and down on your knees_**

**_And for the moment you can hardly breathe_**

**_Wondering was she really here?_**

**_Is she standing in my room?_**

_**

* * *

****SOUL POV**_

_I stood outside her door—hesitant and indecisive—paralyzed by the fear of the unknown as never before—held captive by the dread of what awaits me behind those closed panels of wood, of what would greet my eyes—the truth that I would have to confront when I finally do see her._

_Half a day._

_That's all it took. A little more than twelve hours since we've waved goodbye to one another—though it feels like half a lifetime ago now… A little more or perhaps a little less—my anxious mind refuses to pin down the number of minutes we've been apart but the outcome is distressingly the same—she has been hurt._

_Because I wasn't there—despite my vow to stay by her side and be her weapon for as long as she would have need for me._

_Because I wasn't there to be her shield when that crazed witch attacked her._

_Because I allowed my annoyance and my altercation with my family to be uppermost in my mind, causing me to ignore my unease watching her leave without me._

_I allowed her to go off alone…weaponless and vulnerable…believing that she'll be safe enough without me…thinking that without a ready weapon in her hands she would be cautious enough not to rush into things she couldn't handle…trusting that we wouldn't jump into trouble so readily…_

_But when has she ever been restrained? Why didn't I consider that my strong-willed Meister while being smart and capable is also impulsive and headstrong? If she saw an opening, she would have taken it—bare-handed or not. She rushed through the streets of Shibusen on foot once intent upon searching for Crona without any visible clue or idea regarding his whereabouts._

_The knowledge that she shared the same reckless streak with Black Star didn't make the ache and worry inside me subside. It called to mind another incident when her very existence was almost snatched out of my hands. Maka confronted madness incarnate inside that twice-damned factory. Even now the memory of how that clown took her into darkness' arms makes me feel cold. Maka simply doesn't back down from anything life throws her way. She would bluster, scream, brood, vent or Maka-chop things until she could get things back into perspective. Just this once, I wished she listened to reason first before barging headlong into the fray._

_I am a weapon—one of the strongest ever forged in the history of Death City, to be sure the strongest and most proficient scythe-weapon ever. And here I was—the Demon Scythe—known for being icy, precise and fearless…held immobile by my irrational fear, standing outside the hospital room of my sworn partner not knowing if I have what it takes to reach out and grasp the door knob. My fingers shook, a wicked brew of shame, guilt and regret flowing through me, thinking that somewhere just behind this flimsy panel of wood is the woman who helped me fulfill my dream and gain my place in the world. But more than anything it was the crippling fear that holds me—the very real fear that while I was away she has been taken from me permanently._

_

* * *

_"You gonna stand there like a petrified chicken all day or do you want us to open the door for you?"

The voice was shocking in the gripping echoes of his own thoughts. Black Star's abrasive and gruff tone reassured him—he was here. All of their friends were here—he was not alone.

"Black Star!" Tsubaki's shocked tones followed her Meister's usual tactless comment statement.

"Ever thought that you might be an insensitive and uncouth creep ever crossed your mind Black Star?" he replied in turn, casting a glance at the noisome ninja. He gave a nod towards Tsubaki as she tried, futilely, once more to control her strident Meister.

"Heh! Like I even know what uncouth means. Unless it means I'm great I never really bother to learn spelling. Now, are you going to open the door or not?"

"I was trying to muster up the courage."

"What's with all these fancy words you've been spouting off lately? Hey Soul, did that old geezer do something weird to your mind or something. You sound like you and you also sound not like you."

"That's a mouthful."

"That's nothing. Someone great as I am can talk for hours on end! I am greater than the gods and so talking is necessary. There are many unbelievers—they must be taught--!"

"Black Star, this is a hospital, you must be a bit quieter, please or else Nigus-sensei might get mad and throw us out."

"She wouldn't dare! I am a god! I am the greatest! I am greater than the Gods in all the world!" And with that, he reared back and delivered a kick to the door, shattering it to splinters. "I am Black Star and she would not—could not cast out the great Black--!"

"Oh I can't can I?"

Nigus-sensei appeared behind Black Star and the ninja was flummoxed. He was a ninja—he should have heard her. He was even more surprised when her fingers clamped over the tender flesh of his ear and promptly dragged him away. Tsubaki could only shake her head as she followed her partner—older and stronger than ever—was carted off by the school nurse. She paused beside Soul and apologized once more before encouraging him to go on inside.

"I am sorry. He really means well and he's just as nervous as you about Maka-chan. It's time to go and see her Soul-kun. Professor Stein has been waiting for you."

"Thank you Tsubaki. Go and take care of that idiot."

"I will. I'm glad Black Star located you so soon."

With a reluctant sigh, Soul turned towards the ruin of a door and proceeded inside—trying desperately to ignore the rapid thumping of his heart, convincing himself that he was not someone prone to nerves.

* * *

The figure lying on the bed resembled a child just going through the first throes of a flu…there was a pallid cast to her skin, making the usual alabaster complexion even more sallow-looking. Tubes connected to the IV were attached to the back of her hand while machines monitored her pulse and heart-rate. Pale honey blond locks spilled across the pristine white of the pillows and a thick blanket was wrapped around her torso. But all the trappings of an ordinary hospital paled when he noticed the intense look in Professor Stein's eyes. His eyes bore a startling similar look in them—a look he knew presaged the use of soul perception. His eyes shifted to the other occupant in the room, surprised to note that Kid had his back turned towards the door and that he failed to realize that the antechamber was now covered in splinters from a decimated door.

He felt his feet carry him closer to the bed, barely acknowledging the look that came in the professor's eye nor the surprise and relief in Kid's. His eyes only sought and recognized the presence of one creature alone: Maka.

He brushed aside the honey-toned tendrils of hair that clung to her damp cheeks. Her lips moved though no sound came out and Soul found himself shifting ever closer to the bed, murmuring soft soothing noises to calm her, instinct taking over, and he sat by her bed, almost half on it, as was his habit whenever she would be sick with the rare fever or colds.

His fingers found all reasons to touch her, reassuring himself that she was still here, that she was real—in his presence and safe from further harm. When she again made another noise, he did what he had always done whenever she was distressed. He cupped her cheeks and touched his forehead to hers—closing his eyes and just letting his soul touch hers.

It took only a moment but it was enough. With hands shaking and eyes opened in wild disbelief, he finally acknowledged the presence of the man standing behind him.

"What is this?"

"I thought you'd be the only one who could best see what I have been trying to understand since I arrived here."

"She's alive…isn't she?"

"Oh yes. And other than the faint ligature marks on her neck, she will be just ok."

"Ligature marks?"

"The witch was trying to strangulate her." It was the first time Kid broke the silence since gaining access to Maka's room. Professor Stein leveled a look at the young Reaper and his look was met. Silence gripped the room until Soul's frigid tones made them jump.

"The witch—is dead." It was not a question and Kid was glad to be able to affirm it.

"She died after speaking a few words."

"Tell me what happened."

Kid glanced at the Professor before nodding. The professor moved to close the door and all the windows in the room. Liz and Patty already left when Soul first gained entry into the room. Soul remained on his perch of Maka's bed, his hands absently feathering across the calloused skin of her palm, gained from scythe use.

"The mission was supposed to be a simple extraction—recon on the outset—extraction being the last option to be taken. Black Star and Tsubaki cased the place and confirmed that there was only one person inside the mansion. It was weak and barely hd enough energy to live for long."

Professor Stein raised his hand and Kid paused to wait for his query.

"Did Black Star notice anything unusual about the place?"

Kid nodded. "Yes, he did. He and Tsubaki-san said the place smelled old and seemed like something left untouched. Like it had been kept locked away and had that same musty, old scent."

"Alright. Go on."

"We proceeded as ordered and once we gained entry to the house we located the witch Medea fairly quickly. She sat on a piano bench near an old pianoforte, staring outside. She didn't become aware of our presence until we pulled back the heavy drapes that darkened the room."

"Medea. She used to be quite powerful. She simply vanished from Shibusen's radar when we heard rumors that she was about to wed someone."

"Apparently the wedding never materialized. It was Maka who noticed that the witch seemed a prisoner of her own mind. She didn't see as real entities no more than constructs in her world. She thought we were guests to the wedding and that's when Maka noticed that Medea was still wearing her wedding gown, waiting still for her missing groom."

"The groom wasn't missing."

As one, Soul and Kid looked at their old professor. Stein was still the most proficient Meister to ever be produced and his immense skills were always augmented by his frighteningly perceptive mind. Soul remained quite and Kid was forced to voice out his inquiry.

"What do you mean? Did she kill him?"

"In a manner of speaking. The man was an explorer and man of various talents."

"She called him her tuner."

"Music is obviously one of his many skills. He is also an opportunist. He gained access to her wealth and her impressive collection of artifacts and sold them off one by one even as he promised to marry her. She found out that Jason had other plans and another woman waiting for him. Medea vowed vengeance and got nothing for her trouble but the scorn of her kind. She withdrew from it all."

Kid shook his head, a frown beetling his brows. "That doesn't make any sense. Her rage was so palpable. It was something in her past that triggered her rage. Something in Maka that caused her to snap."

"The question remains, what it was that triggered the attack. Indeed, what made the witch who remained in stoic despair suddenly throw away her life and seek to harm a strange girl?"

Soul spoke for the first time after the start of the exchanges between Kid and the Professor.

"Why is she like this? Why can't I reach her?" His voice was steady…flat and emotionless and it made the other two shiver at the promise of violence held barely in check. "What is wrong with her Professor?"

"Physically, nothing…just superficial marks and bruises. But something happened—Medea cast an unusual curse—a very old, very powerful one. The exact name and nature of the curse is still unclear. All except its obvious result is known to us."

"And that would be what Professor?" he replied testily.

"Medea ripped out a fragment of her soul. It's a curse that requires a payment of blood. Simply put a life for a life."

"A fragment of her soul?!"

"Look at her, you yourself have seen the truth. She responds not to you. I can't perceive her soul. It's like it has been wiped clean. She isn't dead Soul-kun but there is something missing inside her."

"What can we do?"

"Nothing until she wakes up. We don't know the full extent of her soul's damage. Until she awakens, we don't know how she has been altered."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did that witch target Maka?"

Professor Stein looked at Kid and waited, his eyes indicating the same question. Kid looked at the dying sun and gathered his thoughts. He knew this is where his memory of the events would be needed the most.

"The witch grabbed at Maka as soon as her Soul Perception noted the trap laid on the floor. She was talking to Maka at first, her voice was broken, defeated and we heard her say something about trading her powers to be a mortal. What she really said, only Maka and Medea knew for certain. She gripped Maka's sweater and sliced it nearly to her waist when something caught her eye and then she really went berserk."

"And then, what did the witch do? What did you see?"

"She plunged her glowing hand into Maka's chest and pulled out a shimmering thread-like matter. I only realized it was an actual fragment of her soul when Maka's link with us winked out."

The professor cranked up the bolt on her head and pursed his lips thoughtfully. Both of them ignore the muted screech of metal bending beneath the crushing grip of a hand.

"The fragment—what did it look like?"

"It was the most unusual thing. I have seen souls extracted—whole or fragments left behind when humans become so despairing and depraved that their souls become ragged tatters. But what came out of her looked more like a score of music."

"What?"

Kid looked at Maka's face as she lay cradled in her weapon's arms but his words were for Soul.

"The fragment she ripped out looked like a measure of music—lines and notes—like a musical score. But while it was happening I didn't just notice one light, I noticed two professor."

"Two? After the fragments been extracted? What was the cause for the second one?"

Kid held out his hand. Suspended from his closed fist, swinging like a pendulum from an intricate chain of gold and silver was a pendant shaped like a quarter note. And shimmering from within its emerald orb was a small, but undeniable, impossibly burning scarlet flame.

* * *

**_When you're dreaming with a broken heart_**

**_The giving up is the hardest part_**

**_She takes you in with your crying eyes_**

**_Then all at once you have to say goodbye_**

**_Wondering could you stay my love?_**

**_Will you wake up by my side?_**


	17. Rude Awakenings

Authors Note:I apologize for the delay. Somehow, I keep getting thumped on what to do with this scene. Romance is such a hard thing to do and atmosphere is sometimes everything. I will get some humor back in (even if it kills me). Until then, I hope this would entertain you--at least until I can come up with something worth while.

* * *

**SOUL**

The sight of that pendant swinging freely from Kid's hand felt like a solid punch to his gut—fear and anger were flooding his veins in a river of ice, numbing him and making a huge gaping chasm to form where his heart used to be. The truth that the only reason that chain was absent from its usual resting place only drove further the truth that it was damaged—like the woman he held in his arms.

_**The chain he has chosen for her was broken...**_

The idea that his Meister was just as broken made him wish he could clench his fist and hit something—give vent to the frustration gnawing at him but he had other things to do. Right now there were better things he should attend to. Like making sure that she wakes up—and soon—was topmost on his mind. Everything else could wait until then.

_**He had to make sure she can make it through this ordeal unharmed…if she doesn't…then he doesn't anything else would matter… nothing else would…**_

He barely noticed the way his body curved naturally, protectively against her prone form, shielding her as if from some invisible attack, his left hand encasing Maka's smaller one, his thumb smoothing the pale, bruised skin on her knuckles tenderly. Only the rigid set of his jaw and the fierce battle-ready gleam in his eyes spoke of the agitation that he feels.

"Soul…"

He barely acknowledged the call. With the barest inclination of his head, he made sure Kid knew that he heard his call. Kid gave a nod and with a casual flick of his wrist he sent the pendant flying, a glittering arc of colors shimmering in the light as started to fall before it was caught, chain and all into the palm that Soul held out as if by instinct. It landed squarely in the middle of his outstretched hand, making both men share a fleeting look of commiseration. Soul stared at the broken chain in his hands before making short work of the intricate links. His sensitive fingers found the broken loop and with a few deft twists and tugs managed to refasten the links.

"Thanks."

* * *

**STEIN**

If the kid knew Soul Protect, the absolute stillness of his soul's wavelength would've been normal, even expected. If the one sitting there, awake and aware and not unconscious and unresponsive was a Meister, he could still justify the absence of any obvious fluctuation in his soul. However the fact remains that Soul was a weapon, albeit an extremely gifted and strong one to be sure, but he IS a weapon, nonetheless.

_Odd…_

Stein also noted the way the room's very temperature seemed to respond to the young man's presence…it was as if some unseen miasma was floating all around them, inert but palpable that lay waiting until the weapon came into the room. Even a Death God proved ineffective to it. The invisible cloud that gripped the room only eased with the presence of the prone Meister's scythe.

_Fascinating…simply fascinating…_

He resisted the urge to smile. He was certain that Soul would not appreciate the humor he sees in the situation nor would his hair-trigger temper respond favorably to the idea of using his Meister as a guinea pig to satisfy a scientists curiosity.

_Talk about interesting taboos…_

The absence of any visible ripple in the weapons' soul and the retreat of that swirling subtly tangible miasma nagged at all his scientific senses. _Pity he wouldn't submit himself to a test anymore than he'd allow Maka-chan._ With a sigh of regret, Stein concentrated on the matter at hand. The tie between Meister and Weapon—simply put—is a strong and lasting coordination and synchronization between souls—that is what it is in essence.

"Soul where were you went out on her mission?"

The perceptive and off-the-wall question jolted Kid just as much as it did when he was the one being asked the first time he came into the room but Professor Stein was fascinated to note once more that Soul's wavelength remained unperturbed.

"I was at home entertaining an unwanted guest."

"Who--?" Kid started to ask but Soul raised a hand to forestall any further question.

"Unwanted was the term. That pretty much spells out how I feel about the matter Kid. Leave it alone."

The young reaper's eyes blazed for a moment before he gave a short curt nod. He understood that for now, Soul has no intention of telling him anything not related directly to his Meister's well-being.

"From the accounts given by her team mate, Maka was attacked sometime in the afternoon. Where were you at that time?"

"Same place."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I would remember since around that time I remember feeling an intense pain in my chest. According to my guest, I blacked out. He panicked and drove me to the nearest hospital he could find and he then brought me to a hotel where Black Star eventually found me."

Stein noted the shock that flashed through Kid's face before he managed to conceal it. However, the question he wanted to ask was stated, quite accommodatingly, by the reaper himself.

"Soul, can you recall a time frame—what time thereabouts you felt this cold pain?"

"Sometime after dusk. The pain was intensely icy—cold fire. I haven't felt pain like that ever."

With each word Soul stated, Steins' mind churned ever faster, trying to make sense of the patterns his mind's eye was detecting. Sorting through all the knowledge he acquired researching, studying, considering and discarding ideas and theories with the speed of thought.

What he came up with left him bemused and intrigued. He realized that what he came up with—in essence—was either sheer insanity or something completely unheard of. He wondered how much he should put forth into the conversation. He cataloged the statements made inside the hospital room they were currently occupying. He noted the way Soul caught the flash of flame within the deep dark depths of green gem that adorned what was obviously a gift Soul gave to his Meister. He also becomes aware of the way Soul refused to look into the pendant too closely after that initial look. He decided to approach the matter in a methodical manner. With a nod, he began.

"Soul-kun…you gave that pendant to Maka-chan?"

"What of it?"

"Just answer the question please."

Ingrained manners of student-teacher relationships came to Stein's rescue. Soul responded with the same reluctance though considerably less hostility.

"Yes. I gave it to her when she finally fulfilled her promise."

"Promise?"

"Making me into a true Death Weapon."

"Ah I see…"

"Why are you asking Prof?"

"Kid, do you know what Soul Transference is?"

"Certainly. It is when you literally transfer a soul into another container or in such cases living vessels."

"Indeed. Usually witched do this with their familiars. It allows for escape and self-preservation. Now, until today, there has never been, to the best of my knowledge, ever been a soul transfer that's been shared between two linked souls."

"Linked? Whose souls are we talking about here Professor Stein? Surely, you're not suggesting Maka-chan and Soul--?!"

"In the event that a Meister's soul wavelength falters, the weapon, unless in actual combat or in contact, remains unaware of it even happening. There is no transference of sensation and this allows a weapon to be with another technician and vice versa."

"But Soul and Maka-chan--?"

"They felt it. While Maka-chan's soul was being ripped from her, Soul, I believe was experiencing the very same event."

"How is that even possible? That has never occurred before!"

"We have never known of such an event, true, but this is something we have no information about the matter. Why don't we ask Soul what he thinks?"

Eagerly they turned to ask the man in question. However Soul's attention was caught by something else. Peering intently past Soul's shoulders, they realized just what it was that held him.

Maka was stirring.

* * *

**MAKA**

_**Silence…Anguish…Fear….Darkness…Lingering pain…warmth...**_

_She was lost in the swirling chaos of light and ache, wishing all at once for the blessed calm of oblivion to claim her again. Something was calling to her. Calling her back…back to that someone who was waiting for her…waiting for her to open her eyes and see…_

_**Red…**_

_**Like a rose newly bloomed in moonlight…**_

_**Like wine illuminated by the warmth of a candle's light…**_

_**Like blood-rubies…**_

_His eyes were red. A young man with a shock of snow-white hair and elegant clothes stood next to her bed. She realized belatedly that the warmth that seduced her awake came from their joined hands. She glanced at it, the movement of her eyes concealed beneath the thickness of her downcast lashes. She looked at the linked digits but she did not feel any need to pull her hand from his. She allowed the contact to remain._

_The young man kept looking at her but he didn't speak—even when his eyes seemed to say quite a lot._

"Maka-chan!"

_She turned her head towards the direction of the sound. A young man dressed in black came into view. Next to him, a man wearing a lab coat also spoke. _

"Are you alright Maka-chan?"

_She wondered if she should speak and reassure them that she was fine but something pinged inside her halting the response springing to her lips. Her eyes, she realized, once again returned to the still-silent young man. Somehow, she wanted to hear him speak. She needed to hear his voice before she does anything else._

"Maka…"

_She closed her eyes, unaware of having done so, her head titling to the side as if to hear more clearly, savoring the dips and rumble of the man's voice. Something very much like a shiver raced along her spine. _

_Opening her eyes, she was pleasantly surprised by the sight of the same ruby-eyed man brushing back damp locks from her cheeks, smoothing the skin with the pads of his fingers. He gave her a slightly crooked smile and she found herself smiling back. She watched as he leaned forward and looped a thin chain around her neck. She smiled once more when she felt the warm weight of the pendant settle against the skin between her breasts. She looked up, gave a small smile and finally spoke._

"Who are you? Who is Maka?"


	18. Interruptions and Revelations

Authors Note: SE is not mine and I could only thank the one who made it. Normal disclaimers and such apply. This chapter has been nagging at me since I finished the last one and it simply demands that I be contrary. My Muse is an utterly wicked one. So please don't kill me because I decided to listen to the voice inside my head suggesting that this story become as unpredictable as it can be. Be forgiving - kuroren\

* * *

**SOUL**

He used to think nothing else could shatter his world. It has been broken before and been mended. It took a long time…every splinter painstakingly reconstructed by careful hands…at times clumsy ones…by familiar hands and even new ones…until the day came when he woke up realizing that the fractures had healed and he was whole.

_**Who are you…?**_

The words echoed over and over inside his head…mocking him…wounding him with every word…every utterance made with her soft, hesitant, vulnerable voice… the words she said stabbing at him with their innocence…the soft uncertain cadence spoken with her voice…uttered by her lips…a blasphemy that he now wished fervently to blot from his mind.

_**She never said those words to me before…not even back then when we first met…never…not once did she ask who I was…**_

The pain bloomed somewhere inside his chest and for a minute or two he wonders if the old wound he sustained fighting Ragnarok before had reopened and bled anew. The pain was spreading in dizzying waves, inundating him until his entire chest felt as if it was on fire but at the same time ice rushed through his veins…numbing him, every emotion on hold except for the anguish that simply wont recede.

_**She doesn't remember me…how can she not remember who I was…who she is…what we are to one another…?**_

The words he uttered in his mind could offer no solace. There was no comfort in knowing how she is now--there was none to be had because the one person that could offer that to him sees him no better than a stranger to her now…

_**How can I let her be taken form me so quickly…so completely…**_

_**

* * *

**_**KID**

The other shoe finally dropped. He knew from the outset that something very bad occurred with the mission. Something beyond the fact that one of them got seriously mauled by a witch with more than the usual touch of madness in her as he stared at the miserable tableau his miscalculation created. Soul and his Meister was one of those rare, once-in-a-million-lifetime kinds of partnership. Even as a child, he saw their potential, the great things they were poised to do and now here they were—broken, their ties shattered by one small incident. An incident he had helped unknowingly to perpetuate. He was prepared for Soul's silence. After Maka woke up and said such a thing, how can he not be quiet? It was only to be expected.

"**What the hell are you saying you idiot? How can you forget your own name you stupid fool?!!!"**

The sudden outburst caught him and Professor Stein by surprise. They jumped when they heard the boom of Soul's tirade when they half-expected shock to silence him.

"Soul-kun! I really don't think this is the right time for you to be saying such things--!" Professor Stein tried to calm the irate weapon but Soul wasn't one to be reassured so easily

"You fool! I told you to be careful! I told you to stay back and let those with weapons handle it! Why are you such a stubborn idiot! You are worse than Black Star!"

"Hey did someone mention the name of the great Black Star? Of course, how can you resist calling upon the great name of the magnificent warrior Black Star? It is only expected--!"

"Stop that infernal racket Black Star we have an emergency already!" Kid bellowed irritably.

"It is not a racket! I am merely stating the truth. Now that the great Black Star is here there is no need to think of the impossible. I am all that is needed to make things perfect after all."

"Shut it you freaks I'm already pissed off and if you don't shut up I will toss your bloody asses out of here pronto! That goes double for you Black Star and Kid stop twitching over the darn curtains!!" Soul snarled.

Kid dropped the curtains he had been desperately straightening since he came in. As if the noise wasn't enough, Kid groaned when another figure voice piped in. It was Spirit. _Bloody hell. As if Black Star wasn't punishment enough for the three of them to handle and one of the said three having a major breakdown._

"Maka!!!! Papa is here!! Papa will save Maka! Maka!!!! Papa is coming!!!" He fumbled into the room with all his usual annoying flair and arm-waving. And then he proceeded with the water works of the century. It was enough to make someone swear the gods were laughing.

"Spirit-kun will you behave yourself! This is a disaster and all that caterwauling won't help us at all. Now be quiet!!"

"That is my little girl! I have every right and you know it!"

The sight of the older man's tears stopped the acerbic reply that threatened to spring from his lips. Kid knows that Spirit meant well and that he means something to his daughter but the man simply needed to grow up before he demands that everyone around him—including his daughter—respect him.

"She doesn't remember anything Spirit."

Professor Stein calm tones should've restored Spirit's poise but instead the odd man blanched, gasped and crumpled promptly to the floor in all his unconscious glory. He cast an exasperated glance at the older male and found the professor share him a commiserating look. They were jolted out of their shared exasperation when they saw Soul release Maka's hand and tugged her to a sitting position, grabbing her pigtails and proceeded to yank at them with every word.

* * *

**SOUL**

_**POV**_

_I ought to have listened to my grandfather's sole advice—he only gave one and it was on the day I told him I found someone who could be my partner. I wonder if he knew just how bloody hard it was to sever ties because he had to do it himself once._

_Now I understood why he told me to make sure I cast a lure that would be answered by the one fate destined was to be mine. __**A lure to one and a deterrent to all the others who would prove unable to commit fully to his own needs.**__ And Maka was IT. She was the only one that responded to the calls I hid in the depths of my music. I should've understood why he was determined I found one on my own. I guess it's because right now I would have traded anything to ensure that bond was never compromised._

"You. Are. An. Idiot!!!!! This is what happens when you don't use that brain you've rotted so much with reading and studying! Look at yourself you are useless!!! How will you fix this now Maka?!!!!"

At the sound of all the shouting the girls who waited outside rushed in as well, wondering at the noise after the long period of silence. As one Liz, Patty and Tsubaki turned to look first at Professor Stein who stood with a smirk and an uncanny gleam in his eyes. The image was too eerie and they quickly averted their gaze. The next person was Kid who stood on one side of Soul trying, and loosing apparently, to calm down the scowling weapon. On Soul's other side was Black Star cowing his usual "I-am-the greatest" drill.

"What happened! Is Maka-chan alright? What is going on in here?"

Kid, rubbing his forehead in vain hope of staving off the potential migraine of the century he feels coming on opened his lips to respond but the female trio simply pushed them—all males they were—aside to get to their friend.

"Maka-chan. Are you alright? How do you feel?" Liz, ever the practical one assessed the number of apparatus surrounding the bed and gave a low whistle. "Whoa."

"Maka-chan made a booboo!" Patty stated with her usual cheer.

Tsubaki touched one of Maka's hand and gave it a fond squeeze.

"We were all so worried about you."

Soul watched as all three of them hovered around her like over-protective mothering hens. Even Kid found himself in an inglorious heap on the floor, pushed aside the solicitousness of three well-meaning females. Soul watched and waited for the people they called friends to find out for themselves what happened to Maka. He doesn't have the heart to tell them.

"I'm alright. Liz. And yes Patty I think I made a minor booboo. But I have to ask, who is this Maka you keep calling? And Tsubaki-chan, who are those people behind you? Why are all these guys inside my room? Do I know them?"


	19. Question and Answer

Authors Note: Normal disclaimers apply. Many thanks to those that exerted time and effort to read my work. I am very happy with the positive response that this work has generated. I hope that you would continue to find pleasure in the story that I am crafting. I am struggling to make sure that humor continues to be present in this story or else die trying. - kuroren23

* * *

**MAKA POV**

The patchwork quilt of a man with the over sized crew on the side of his head decided to take over the mayhem that resulted inside the small hospital room then. I wondered then who was more thankful: me or him.

After shooing out everyone with the notable exemption of himself and of course, I, the only one that remained was the all-too-silent, snow-haired, ruby-eyed man that stood quietly on the other side of my room.

Since I first awoke and following his wholly unexpected and inexplicable (at least to me) fiery outburst (as well as that of the untimely and all-too loud interruption of 'friends') he hasn't made another sound. He simply leaned back against the window sill, staring at some scene outside with utmost concentration. Something tells me that despite his languid pose he was conscious of everything going on inside the room.

When the professor—that being what everyone calls him—ushered everyone out, I almost voiced out my concern that he too would be escorted out. The instinctive need to make sure that he remained with me surprised me so much that I wasn't able to utter a single sound. Despairing over this dilemma, I was relieved when I noticed that the professor made no move to make him leave. It took me another minute or so to question my reactions and then wondered anew at the unexpected relief his presence brought.

"Are you ok now Maka-chan?"

There was a quality to Professor Stein's voice that made me aware that when he asks you as question, there was something there beyond simple curiosity or pursuit of an answer. In my current situation, I obeyed the instinct to tell the truth—unvarnished and coherent as I could make it.

"Not as much as I wish I think I should be Professor… physically…I just feel like I've been though a really tough work-out but mentally… there are a lot of blank spaces in my mind…telling me that I ought to know something but when I try to remember…nothing…"

The professor nodded. It was as if my answered confirmed his suspicions.

"You remember the girls perfectly well don't you? You know who they are…"

"Yes." My answer was immediate but the truth in them sounded hollow. _I knew the girls but I knew them in a way that didn't make sense except that my mangled mind recognized them as being of no threat and therefore safe to recall. How do I explain to them that I can tell the girls because something inside me deems them as safe? It doesn't make sense even to me._

"To what extent do you know them?"

"To what extent? I know that they're friends of mine and that they were classmates in school."

"What is the name of your school?"

"I don't know…"

"How old are you now?"

"I don't know…"

"What is it that do you?"

"Do? I-I'm not sure actually…"

He sat on the chair beside my bed, lounged in it actually, his hand turning the screw meditatively. He kept ticking off things in his hand as he hummed and muttered before tossing out another question.

"But you didn't know anyone in this room that was male, isn't that right Maka-chan?"

"Yes." This time my response was surer. A tiny pinprick inside me refused to accept that I denied one fact. _I did feel a sense of recognition. But it came in and out like the tide and that was not something I could dwell on. Déjà vu after all, is hardly a reasonable excuse._

He sighed and looked at the ceiling. Then he began to explain what he thinks happened. So far, up until that point, with the blanks that my mind keeps drawing up, it was the best assessment they could come up with at the moment.

"Maka-chan, I believe that when you confronted the witch Medea, something about you triggered her attack. Kid said that she was talking to you at first…so I assume that she wasn't all that intent upon violence then. But something did make her violent afterwards."

I frowned. If the professor was asking me to provide a credible reason for the attack, I doubt if I would be able to. Right now, I'm still taking their word for it that my name is actually Maka to begin with.

"I can't tell you what happened then or what the witch talked about. If what you say is true—I'm sorry but it seems to have been lost along with everything else."

"Can you recall anything about the witch or the house where you were attacked?"

"There was a big thing there…something she kept touching with her hands…"

"What else…"

"She was wearing something odd…but I don't remember what it was or why she was wearing it…or why I thought that was odd…"

"Hmm..." With pursed lips, the professor reached forward and with a quick twist of his hands fished the pendant and chain out from beneath my collar. His agility surprised me but more than that, what caught me off-guard was the feeling of chagrin that he came that close. Something tells me I have a definitive definition for the word personal space. I tried to rally my thoughts and concentrated on what he was saying.

"Do you know who gave this to you?"

I opened my lips and started to say no but for some reason something stopped me. The sight of that pendant—the stylized quarter note, the combination of green and red stones that called to mind the color of someone's eyes…an important someone… There was just something about the pendant he was dangling that resonated inside me. _**Mine**_. _**No, not just mine…me and…**_I struggled with the memory and the dark void but in the end there was nothing that could give the right response. The loss felt oddly painful to me and I simply shook my head. My eyes however, remained firmly on the pendant.

"No…"

Had I known then that the man that intrigued me was listening; I would have looked at him as I answered the professor's questions. As it was, I missed the wince that flashed in his tell-tale eyes. When I risked a look at the intriguing male's face it betrayed no change whatsoever. His lack of apparent concern disconcerted me somewhat and I struggled to understand what the doctor was saying to me.

"I'm sorry what did you say professor?"

"What do you see Maka-chan?"

"It's a pendant sir."

"What shape?"

"I think that a note sir. A quarter note but I'm not really sure if that's right."

"You're right. It is a quarter note. What else do you see? Can you describe the pendant to me?"

"It's a jeweled pendant. Something that looks like a green stone—perhaps an emerald and rubies…it's very pretty Professor."

"I want you to look at it closely ok? Next time…when you feel more like yourself I want you to look at it alright?"

_Look at it? That wasn't terribly hard_. I nodded and the doctor once again reached behind me to unlock the chain. He must have met some kind of obstacle because after less than ten seconds he turned to the young man who has stood there silent as stone since the professor kicked out most of the people out of my room.

"Mind helping me with this one Soul-kun? Seems like the chains locked."

_Locked?! It was locked around my neck?_ Now, normally the notion of having anything clamped around any appendage would instill a real sense of panic (read: major nervous breakdown) but for reason fathomable only to my scrambled brain, the lock symbolized permanence and therefore safety. _It would not—could not be taken from me._ The shock of possessiveness surprised me but it was nothing to the very real, very strong surge of feeling that assailed me when HE came close.

"Excuse me…"

His rough, low voice made me shiver in awareness. Completely enthralling and curiously soothing to my frayed nerves—it's like cool water to my parched lips. His words—brief and altogether too trite should've sounded alien to my ears. But they didn't. I did not know his name but I felt that I should and that frightened me. Just as much as the overwhelming need to bury myself in his arms that came over me the moment he came close enough to touch.

"Soul…is that your name?" I whispered, helpless to do otherwise.

At first I feared he didn't hear me and then I feared that he did. He brushed his fingers along the line of my throat and I knew he felt me shiver. His fingertips were calloused…rough and covered with thin scars crisscrossed and shockingly hot against my cold clammy skin.

"Yes…that's right. I'm Soul."

I never realized how sensitive humans could be of one another…while Soul (somehow adding an honorific didn't fit his personality though I was perfectly aware that the professor added the necessary – kun when addressing him) fiddled with the lock at my nape I could feel the hot, moist exhalation of his breath against me and I simply had to close my eyes from the sheer feeling of yearning that flooded through me. Unconsciously, I leaned against him. My forehead against his shoulder blades, lashes lowered to better savor or conceals my emotions—I wasn't totally sure.

"Is my name really Maka?"

I didn't know what made me ask. But I knew that I would trust what he would say more than all the reassurance of those around me. IF he said it, I would take it as truth. There was no hesitation or doubt in my mind about that.

"Yeah. You're Maka."

"Why do I feel like I know you…?" Like my instinctive trust in him the question leaped out before I had time to think. The rueful twist of his lips did little to make me feel any less embarrassed about my impulsiveness. When I have more time, I would ask him if that was my basic nature.

"I guess it's because we're close. We've lived with each other for years now."

"We live with each other?!!!" I asked, incredulous._ Was I married? I made a quick glance at my left hand. No ring so big NO. Are we lovers then? _The idea of asking him made me feel faint. "Why?" I squeaked.

"Hm… that would be because you're mine."

The casual way he made the declaration made me blanch. I struggled mightily to gather my scattered thoughts and muster a response. What came out made me wish I could knock myself out from utter mortification

"I am?! And you? Are you mine?" I bit my tongue but the question hovered between us. Belatedly I cast a despairing glance at the professor and found him stifling his laughter. The sight made me cringe. When silence immediately met my statement I turned a wary eye towards the man whose hands still hung suspended around me. Slowly, he drew his hands back, letting the back of his hand brush against the line of my jaw before placing the pendant within my his fingers around mine, he raised my closed fist and kissed my knuckles before flashing a thoroughly wicked smile.

"Well, well…is that a proposal Maka? I never thought you'd ask."


	20. Offers, Complaints and Scare Tactics

Authors Note: Standard Disclaimers apply proclaiming my "borrowing" of this piece of genius. Of course in any event, there are many perspectives that must be considered. I cannot write one aspect without the other. Please be kind. He needed to have his say. - kuroren23

* * *

_**SOUL POV**_

"_**Soul…is that your name?" **_

_I wonder if she knew how much it hurt to be asked a question like that. For as long as I could remember the only one I never had to fight with for acceptance was my book-loving Meister. From the moment we met, Maka has taken my existence in her stride, and I have taken her in mine—in fact there had been too many times in the past when we've forgotten that there ever was a time we didn't have each other. To have her ask me for my name felt like a physical blow—one I wished with my very soul I had the skills to deflect. _

"_**Yes…that's right. I'm Soul."**_

_I've calmed down considerably since she awoke and dropped the mother load of migraine in my life. _**Amnesia**_. If that wasn't enough to make a man's head hurt it just HAD to be selective amnesia. Leave it to Maka to get the type of amnesia that aggravates most of those around her. What kind of crappy head case leaves someone without the memory of everyone MALE in her life? If she had taken a loaded pistol, say the Thompson Twins, it would've been just like Maka to play Russian roulette only to end up shooting Kid with his own weapons. Honestly, the woman was giving me premature grey hair!_

"_**Is my name really Maka?"**_

_The question made me pause. Since the yesterday when unease first assailed me, I allowed myself to see the situation from my Meister's point of view. Maka, for all her courage and strength, allowed no one to see her when she doubts herself or when she is lacking confidence—no one—except for me. With me she has always been Maka, just Maka. A little girl who reads too much, hits me too much, cares too much, feels too much and loves too deeply to ever make herself a burden to those around her. _

"_**Yeah. You're Maka."**_

"_**Why do I feel like I know you…?"**_

_Hope bloomed in my heart for the first time since this debacle occurred. That she could say that to me means that somewhere in the void she now calls her mind—in her memories though lost for the moment—I was still in there—somewhere. My pulse quickened and I had to control the wild thumping of my heart. _

"_**I guess it's because we're close. We've lived with each other for years now."**_

_Inside her—deep where it matters the most, her soul retains some lingering trace of what we share—her instincts may have been clouded by the witch's curse but underneath it all—the woman who shared my soul and understood my truth more than any other was still there. I found after her question that I could find hope once more._

"_**We live with each other?!!!"**_

_Had I no consideration for her delicate condition (nor any sense of self-preservation having known the full extent her infamous Maka-chops could—and still might—deliver) I would have chuckled aloud at the outright shock written on her face._

"_**Why?!"**_

"_**Hm… that would be because you're mine."**_

_The words slipped out of my lips with frightening ease. Why am I doing this? Heck should I know but I do know that what I said wasn't a lie. That it wasn't a confession either was something I couldn't and wouldn't dwell on. I just knew that I couldn't have answered her with a truer statement._

"_**I am?! And you? Are you mine?"**_

_The blush that stained her high cheekbones merely emphasized the fact that while she was a skilled tech, where it really mattered, Maka is still the precocious kid that came up to me and declared my music good. The surge of possessiveness inside me is a familiar companion. I've had them ever since and I never really sought a justification for its presence. Now that I had no worries to contend with (not to mention her stubbornness because if there's one thing I'm sure of its that my Meister would deny—loudly—that I have any sort of claim on her) I could proceed with things in my own way. _

"_**Well, well…is that a proposal Maka? I never thought you'd ask."**_

_If you're asking me when I made the decision to lay claim on my Meister I think I could have pegged down the exact moment. Actually two instances come to mind. The first was when we met and decided on our so-called partnership. And the second? Well ,isn't it obvious?Maka has amnesia. She wouldn't be in any position to gainsay any claim I have._

_She will be mine._

**

Spirit was not happy Indeed he was so far from happy even the sight of nurses—attractive nurses—failed to elicit any response from the usually dismal-minded weapon.

_This was so not fair. Why in the name of all Death Scythes am I out here and that punk-ass Soul is in there with my precious daughter Maka? Is the world never going to be fair to a loving papa like myself?_

Spirit found the injustice intolerable. He was surprised as everyone else when Maka woke up only to declare that she could not recall anyone male, not her precious papa or her arrogant Death Scythe-of a weapon, Soul. For a moment, Spirit thought he saw the tell-tale flash of pain in his daughter's former weapons eyes. Soul, Spirit had to concede, did care for his dear daughter. Though never as much as Spirit, her dearest papa, could.

However, when it was time to kick out the interlopers from Maka's room , it was he—Spirit—that got the shaft. Why in the hell was he the one they left out? Okay. So everyone was kicked out by Stein including that monstrously strong loud-mouthed ninja but that's to be expected! Friends could never come before family! It simply isn't done. Worse still, why was Soul kept with his treasured little girl?!

"That's it! I won't take this anymore!! Even if it was Stein that kicked him out, it was that cocky brat's fault that my darling daughter is in the hospital, forgetting her dearest lovable Papa. It was his entire fault!"

Sid stared at him for a full minute before bursting into loud guffaws. He clapped a large hand on Spirit's back and tried to call him.

"Calm down, calm down Spirit. I'm sure Stein knows what he is doing. Why don't you go out and get a drink or two to calm down okay?"

"No! I will not calm down! Why in the world is he in there! Why didn't Stein pick me to be with Maka? I'm her father!!!"

"Spirit. Maka is a technician. She needs--!"

"She might be a tech, but Soul isn't her weapon any longer. He belongs to Shinigami-same himself. He should be with the Reaper not here taking my place near my darling darling daughter. MAKAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!"

Had Sid not been distracted by the bizarre (although all-too-familiar scene of Spirit howling in tears) he would've noticed the shadow that lurked just behind one of the many pillars that led to the hospital. He would've been at least curious enough to note that the well-dressed stranger headed straight towards the main offices of Death City.

**

Stein watched the interaction between technician and weapon with keen interest. For years the bond that bound pairs intrigued him but none more so than the pair that stood before him now. Maka came from an impressive lineage of technicians. Her mother, Kami, was recognized widely for her strong Soul Perception and her inimitable use of the Witch Hunter that resulted in the completion of her ex-husband Spirit's weapon form into a fully realized Death Scythe.

Soul's lineage however remained an obscure, all-too tantalizing mystery. The otherwise level-headed weapon possessed, oddly enough, a cool stand-offish air that instantly alerted people that he does not entertain idle curiosity about his past. Even Maka, with her transparency and good cheer, kept his secrets without any effort. Soul simply did not invite any sort of opening.

And yet, now, watching them interact in light of the devastating situation they face revealed far more about the strength of their ties than all the intervening years he had spent observing them on the sly.

Somewhere in the vast abyss of Maka's mind she could recognize still the bonds that made her partnership with her weapon so strong, so formidable. And if he wasn't mistaken, there was something about the pendant that even now she was clutching protectively within her grasp. From all accounts, her memory should've been wiped clean. Though the fact remains that she could recall the females of her acquaintance reveals only that the spell the dying Medea cast was geared towards inflicting pain from the males of the specie. The question remains—what was it about Maka that made the reclusive witch finally snap.

As a tech, Maka learned long ago how to tone down the sheer force of her soul's presence. Unlike Black Star whose soul was tantamount to an onslaught of nature gone berserk, her soul is a subtle seductive force. Had the witch been confronted with any tech, the most likely candidate to trigger her rage would be Black Star' tempestuous soul or even the reaper's own son's inimitable one.

But it was Maka's soul that called to her. Perhaps it wasn't her soul's power that made the witch attack. It might be something else. Something about her or in her or maybe—it was something on her. Stein's eyes looked over Maka's form once again—more thoroughly than before. So far his senses hadn't picked up anything with strong traces of—there!

The thinnest frisson of a soul wave! But where? Where could a possible wave be—and one as complete as the one his senses was hammering to reassure him was there? The wave felt familiar—eerily so. It bore a startling resemblance to the kind of wave produced when an exceptionally well matched pair produces soul resonance not unlike the ones necessary to conjure the Witch Hunter. But this one was stronger—purer and refined—like a delicate piece of music.

His eyes—both physical and spirit-enhanced scanned the room. The pulsing, nameless tangible force led her towards the bed. His eyes fell on the clasped hands of Soul and his inflicted tech. Secured in the depths of their joined hands was the source of the pulsating soul wavelength.

It was coming from Maka's pendant.

Damn.

He should have guessed it. The missing fragment of her soul was trapped in the most unforgiving prison of all. It was locked in a faceted gem.

_**Oh crap.**_

**

Meanwhile the shadow that caught the tail end of conversation between Spirit and Sid finally gained access to the highest office in Death City. With a determined smile and a fierce light in his eyes, he stared at the bespectacled woman that stood sentinel inside the resolutely modern room filled with computer monitors, blue prints and all the necessary accoutrements of a well-run business center or crisis field office.

Yumi Azusa stared at this newcomer with a shrewd look in her too-perceptive eyes.

"Good day. May I help you? These are the offices of Shinigami-sama. Do you have an appointment?"

"No. But I think I am in the right place. You see I have a great need for one of your Death Scythes. One very specific weapon, in fact."

"Is that right?"

"Indeed."

"I think you better come in and speak with Shinigama-sama himself."

"If you think that is best."

"Oh I think it is the only option. Do you scare easily sir?"

"I don't believe so."

"Good. Please remember that you said that sir. This way please."

"Thank you."

They looked the part of a pair of colleagues engaged in business dealing. Pausing outside an impressive looking door, Azusa turned to the man who entered the Death Office so casually and asked as if in passing.

"By the way, sir would you mind telling me you're name."

"Oh there's no need to announce me. I'm sure he hasn't heard of me."

"I doubt that. But I would need your name in case I need to inform your next of kin."

"Why would you need to do that?"

"Precautions. Very well. Please follow me."

"Do you still need my name?"

Azusa gave the man a smile. It nearly felled him to the floor. "That won't be necessary sir. If something untoward should happen, I'm sure the Reaper would tell me your name."

"How would he know that and what do you mean untoward?"

"In the likely scenario that you would find yourself at loss—your life that is—there would be no one better to identify the remains than a death god, wouldn't you agree?"


	21. Shivers, Sense and Sanity

Authors Note: Standard Disclaimer applies. I do not know how technical glitches apply to ones Muse but I sincerely hope it doesn't affect mine. My latest attempt at humor is here. I am, as always, hoping that you would find enjoyment in my work. Onwards with the story.-kuroren23

* * *

**ASUZA**

There had been many who have demanded to see the man who controls Death City. There had been many instances when the powerful figures from various countries and kingdoms, both old and new, demanded the aid from the only one who could rescue them from attacks and threats that proved itself immune to conventional means of warfare. Many came to beg deliverance from plagues and haunting and the occasional curses.

Many of them were turned down, some of them were considered and a fair few were accepted. Death City and all its denizens live by rules all their own. Only those who pass their stringent requirements receive the assistance one desires.

Asuza held the Oceania offices with her delicate Iron Fist and gained the reputation for being able to judge a man's intention five seconds after seeing the prospective clients. But the man that showed up this time around didn't fit the normal profile. For one, respectable business-types hardly have the guts to traverse to this far-off land and for those that found a need, there were always lackeys all too willing to handle the matter for their erstwhile absent masters. She was certain however that the man that knocked on her door was no common lackey. There was something about the man that fairly shouted leader of men—someone well used to the idea of being in charge.

He was well-dressed, to be sure, but that was hardly something to cause her to blink. Kings have been known to waltz in front of the Oceania Head only to have their heads handed back to them on a silver platter. In fact, she took quite a delight to the idea of turning royalties into mincemeat.

Her intruder _du jour_ is an arrestingly handsome man, confident in himself and carries himself in such a way that bespoke of endless generations of wealth and breeding that often raised the hackles of most. This one, however, radiated cool charm. Even when faced with her own brand of cryptic in-house conversation, he still managed to come off as being suave.

_Cool. Now that's something you don't normally associate with people around this place. The only ones I could recall being that way would be Stein, though of course he is mad as a hatter, Kid-kun would've been cool without his OCD. I suppose that leaves him—the brat that nabbed Spirit's little girl._

The image made her smile. Any kind of challenge is always welcome to their kind. Boredom being their only real problem. Perhaps today won't be so bad. It would certainly make her day if she could put a little fear of a "Death God" into the cool-old dude that came knocking on her door. If only the itching of her trigger would go away then she would really have fun. It bothered her to note that the only time her finger ever itches is when its preludes to something really bad or something really epic.

Asuza gave in to the rare thread of wicked humor and chuckled. Since there has been no notice from the front and the no words from the Reaper himself, the itching could only mean one thing: something special is coming their way and she couldn't wait to find out what.

Of course, it would've been less reassuring for most if they understood that when she says special it usually means earth-shattering and dimension-altering changes. Oh well. Live and learn.

**

Creed Romulus Evans could feel the penetrating gaze of the woman he was with _even when she was walking in front of him_. How she could manage such a feat was something he couldn't fathom and he was in no hurry to try and find out. It was just plain creepy and it was taking everything in him not to give in to the mad urge to cower. An Evans simply does not give in to scare tactics—even unconscious, wholly fear-inducing eerie ones. Besides the fact that he was getting the heebie-jeebies from a female who stood six full inches below his own shoulders, the thought of running out of the office screaming in fright was NOT a flattering image.

As an Evans he has learned early on that intimidation was most mind games played out on visible fields using invisible weapons and tactics. Being big, burly and armed sometimes work, but the most lasting kind is the type that uses nothing but the sheer impact of one's personality and the Evans men were groomed from the cradle to give off that austere commanding air.

The woman that was escorting him, however, could have given an entire generation of Evans a lesson on how to silence a room full of panicking board members. There was just something about the petite woman—he doesn't dare call her a secretary or receptionist even in the privacy of his mind—that compels one to offer her due and simply follow her instructions. The questions she kept throwing at him were oddly unnerving and it was all he could do not to stop dead in his tracks.

When the woman gave a chuckle that could only be described as wicked, he resisted mightily the urge to shiver in fear. He gathered his frayed nerves and steeled himself for the sight that might greet his eyes. He was prepared to negotiate with every skill in his Evans arsenal. He would NOT leave this room without getting the one thing he needs to settle things back home.

Black…Mirrors…Clouds…

The entire space was filled with just those three things. His eyes traced the flowing, tattered black robe before shifting to the various mirrors and were those clouds floating? He shook his head as if it to clear it and turned back to the black-clad figure. The man was dressed in an enveloping robe, his face hidden behind what seemed like a mask. When he finally turned around, it was then that Creed Evans finally realized that he has stepped into a really weird world and wonders how best to extricate himself. He made an involuntary step back when the figure raised a massive gloved hand.

"Hellooooo!!!!"

Creed told himself that men should never faint and more so no Evans male. He was still telling himself that when his head touched the floor.

**

Soul slammed out of the hospital room and trekked the long hallway leading into the domain of the Reaper himself, this time, the feeling of being assailed with awe and humbling pride each visit had thus far entailed was curiously absent. Truth be told, he wasn't in the best mood to receive orders today. What with his uncle's inopportune arrival and now this matter with his Meister. He was, to put it bluntly, pissed off at having to leave his Meister's side especially when he was well aware of how vulnerable she was at the moment—more so than she has ever been since their acquaintance. Never mind that for all intents and purposes, it was the Reaper who was his current tech and she was his former. Somehow the distinction paled whenever the issue was raised. As far as he was concerned, he was on loan to the Reaper. She, on the other hand, would always be his Meister.

**

**STEIN**

I couldn't resist the smile that painted my lips when I saw the look that came into Soul-kun's eyes when the summons came. It would have felled a lesser man had the messenger not been Marie. She could certainly calm the young man (read: manipulate) to go and respond to the call rather than remain stubbornly plastered to his injured former Meister.

"I didn't think I could've convinced Soul-kun to leave if it weren't for you."

Marie gave me one of her signature smiles before turning back towards the retreating, sulking figure of a young Death Scythe stomping all the way to the Reaper's domain.

"He must be very worried about Maka-chan. They have been partners for a very long time and through very tough situations. I don't find it all that unusual that he cares for her a great deal. It would've been something if he didn't."

I nodded at her words but couldn't resist pointing out. "Most weapons feel no lingering attachment that makes them cling to past techs. Once they attain Death Scythe status, they usual look forward to the linking with Shinigami-sama. Have you heard of any weapon, barring Justin of course, who clings to the very tech that completed them?"

Marie shook her head.

"No…most of them do rather well even with new techs. Nostalgia makes them work with their former techs but even for those like Spirit and Kami, they can grow apart. Why are you asking me this Stein? What do you see that's got you so interested?"

I laughed. "You know me too well Marie."

Marie snorted. "You're not that hard to read when it comes to that mile-wide curios streak of yours Stein."

I laughed some more and nodded towards young woman left to my care. Marie glanced at the picture Maka made as she sat up leaned back against the pillows, propped up the incline of the bed, staring at the pendant in her hand. She cast a look back at me before staring once more at Maka, this time with her own brand of Soul Perception.

"Is there a reason you wanted me here Stein? You could see this truth far better than I could. You would have known her Soul's been fragmented the moment you came into this room."

"I was waiting for you to come and see her as she is now."

"And?"

"I want you to help me see what has transpired before they managed to bring her back here. And if possible help me heal her."

"Help you heal her? Maka might not be aware of it but her body is unusually suited for getting rid of curses and spells. Even that cursed black blood is expelled out of her body. Who was it that attacked her anyways?"

"The witch Medea."

"Oh dear…"

**

**LIZ**

Kid was wearing out a hole in the carpet but Liz didn't feel like pointing that out to him. The young Death God was in one of his rare moods of introspection and even his constant vigilance with symmetry was relaxed somewhat.

"Kid…?"

"Yes Liz?"

"I thought we were going out."

"Yes. As soon as I'm done here."

Liz watched as Kid pulled out another voluminous book from the shelf. His eyes were firmly focused on the words he was reading and it was all she could do not to frown in worry. The last time Kid became this obsessive with old records were when they were battling Eibon and he needed every scrap of information about the creation of the Demonic Tools. This time however, he was searching through the archives of witches. Witches. Liz blinked before a smile appeared on her lips.

"I guess we can stay in, just for tonight. Want some help?"

"I'll be glad of it. But Liz, if you must pull out books, please slide them out carefully and make sure that you pull it with a singular smooth glide. Also, make sure to browse books in alphabetical sequence, from the left side to the right, moving methodically--!"

Liz gave him one look before she brained him with first book that brush against her hand, after that she walked over his prone form and moved towards another shelf and started to read as well. She understood what Kid needed and she would best make herself useful. Taking a bit of time to instruct Patty to buy food and lock up properly, she settled in for some serious reading. They had an entire library to cover and they had little time to spare. Besides, she still has to wait for Kid to wake up and he's likely to do that sooner or later. For now, she could read aboout witches and curses.

**

**TSUBAKI**

Tsubaki glanced at her Meister who was currently doing his three-thousandth push-up. As always, she made a plate filled with two dozen onigiri for his snack and about a full pitcher of tea. It would be the first of Black Star's four snack times and she was sure they would be needed in the course of a few hours.

"Black Star?"

"Hm..?"

"Do you think Maka-chan would be ok?"

"Of course she would be. I am the greatest and the greatest ninja only befriends other great beings! She will be finer than fine."

"Of course, that would be nice. I am also quite worried about Soul-kun. He might be feeling a bit down."

"Ah Soul shouldn't let it bother him so. It wasn't his fault and now that Maka is home and Professor Stein is fixing her, there is nothing to fret about. It is weakness to dwell on things you can't fix. It is better to simply work towards a solution."

She couldn't help but be pleased at Black Star's insight. Although she was well-aware that many think her Meister was simply a selfish and driven young man, he was genuinely affectionate towards their friends. His so-called arrogance was simply his own way of proving to the world and the people that he believes in himself.

"You maybe right."

"No maybe there! I am always right! For I am the greatest, greater than even the gods and so therefore I am never wrong! I can not be wrong because someone as great as I would always right!!!!"

"Hai. Hai. Now, would you like some onigiri?"

**

**CRONA**

Ragnarok stared at his Meister and fisted his hands in annoyance. The damn brat was still as ambivalent as ever. They have been standing outside the pony-tailed nosy brat's room for nearly ten minutes and his damned tech still hasn't made a move to touch the dratted doorknob.

"Crona you lame-ass scaredy cat will you just open the damn door!"

"But what if she's resting? Then I would be disturbing her."

"That girl lives to be disturbed. She lives with that smart-mouth Soul doesn't she? She's used to being bothered. After all she is one big bother!"

"Don't talk about her like that Ragnarok. I'm just- I'm worried…"

"Then open the damn door and find out if she's dead or not you stupid kid!'

"She isn't dead. We all saw her wake up. But they said she forgot things…what if she forgot about me? What if she forgot that we were friends?"

"I'd say good riddance and I hope she forgets to be such a bother!"

"What did you just say?"

Ragnarok swallowed the rest of his tirade. Whenever there was that thread in Crona's voice, he knew better than to shoot off his mouth. He might be mouthy and all but he respected Crona's new-found strength and he knew better than most that they owe their stable lives to the bratty pig-tailed girl. If it killed him, he would try to be nice.

"Fine then. Just forget what I said and open the door."

"But what if she's sleeping?"

Ragnarok new found patience snapped and he finally used his fist. He knocked himself out and blessed the oncoming oblivion. He'll just wake up when everything's back to normal. Being with Ragnarok without pig-tails would drive anyone crazy. Who says he needs to suffer along with his mad tech? Crona could vacillate till the heavens would collapse. He'll just spend the time sleeping.

**

**SOUL  
**

His temper has cooled somewhat but it didn't mean he was leaping for joy at the idea of seeing his current owner.

_Fine time for me to be summoned by a crackpot genius with the inclinations of a toddler. Brilliant he may be but sometimes, Shinigami-sama was downright a pain in the butt. And then there's Stein._

The thought immediately brought a frown to his face. Stein was altogether too happy to throw him out of the room and have Maka all to his sick self. It wasn't for anything that Soul was a weapon—he notices quite instinctively whenever the taint of human desire and excitement permeated the air—and from what he could sense; Stein was brimming with giddy excitement he could only associate with the fever of a newly made discovery. The man was definitely planning something the moment he was sent out of the room.

_Obsessive, maniacal scientific nutso. Soul Perception be damned, I refuse to admit that man shares anything with Maka._ She might be a tad obsessive–compulsive with her books and her studying and she does go ballistic when he slacks off with the household chores but somehow, at least he won't be waking up with stitch marks all over his body and nary an idea that he'd been used as a guinea pig without his consent.

_Maka…_

He still couldn't understand what made him lay claim. Maka could regain her memories at any moment and then he would not only be caught with the biggest _(okay, next to the biggest_) lie he ever uttered in front of a credible witness _(Stein still counts for_ _something),_ but it would certainly make things awkward between him and the only woman whose opinions he valued. Not to mention he would be on the receiving end of endless Maka-chops for the rest of his preternaturally long life.

_Bummer no matter how I look at it. Awkward moments would be the least of it. Spirit would turn me into ground meat if ever he hears I very nearly propositioned his precious daughter. He might insist I actually marry her._

Marriage and Weddings. Soul gave a shudder at the mental image. _Sure he was a tad possessive of Maka and he did get pissed off when men came on to her like slavering hyenas but it doesn't mean he wants to marry the girl! Right?! _Okay so the words slipped out and he could not find any ready excuse to recant his statements. For one, they were all true. In a matter of speaking—though not strictly—she was his. She has been since they met and agreed to become partners. He made declarations long ago that may have sounded cheesy and downright stupid but he meant them then and he meant them even more now.

He would willingly die to protect her. Never mind that as a Death Scythe he belongs to the Reaper. It doesn't matter and he knew it. He knew that his only fear is that if there ever comes a time when he would chose between defending the Reaper or Maka, there still exist a question in his mind regarding who it would be that he should protect—the woman who completed him or the leader he had wanted to serve since he discovered what it meant to be a weapon. He just prays everyday he never wakes up to a day when he would have to make that choice.

**Well, well…as I live and breathe…don't you have a hell of a dilemma there boy?**

_For the love of all that is wicked in the world when did you wake up you freak?_

**Fine time calling me that, you're the one on the verge of popping a great whopper of a question to your forgetful partner, boyo. Not to mention the fact that her Daddy–dearest would fillet you when he finds out what you did.**

_Shut up you freaky dwarf. I don't need this kind of aggravation right now._

**Hah! Like that would make any difference in the long run.**

_Didn't I get rid of you permanently sometime in the hundreds of times I've been using the Demon Hunter? I must've used that enough times to annihilate your sorry ass to oblivion._

**Newsflash genius, only that little girl could spew me out like a bad taste every time you use that dratted technique. Bad news to you, boyo, but you can't get rid of me that easily. Think major bloodletting before that happens.**

_Just what I need—an annoying jerk spewing even more garbage in my head._

**Live and learn, boyo, I'm here to stay. By the way, what would you do if she doesn't remember your bond? What will you use for leverage then?**

_I already proposed you idiot. She's already half mine._

**She hasn't accepted yet, genius.**

_She already did. I'll just have to remind her. And if she forgot that part, I have the fiancée bit to hold over head. Either way, she is mine._

** crafty cunning bastard. I always knew you were a freaking genius, boyo.**

_Huh. Like I need compliments from a freaky shorty like you. Now shut up._

**Huh. I would shut up. This time. But I promise you I won't be for very long.  
**


	22. Orders, Egos and Angsts

Authors Note: As usual I recognize the truth that SE isn't mine. The plot and craziness, however, is all the by-product of my demented mind. I hope this chapter would answer some of the questions plaguing your mind. I am trying to work as quickly as possible but alas, writing is sometimes a labor of intense love and sometimes words just drop out of nowhere. Many thanks as always.

* * *

**SOUL**

The sight of magnolia trees and the warm, almost syrupy sweetness of the air made Soul shiver in remembrance. Here and there were reminders of his youth…all too vivid and all too real for him to try and convince himself that what he was seeing was a lie, an illusion or a dream. There was no going around the simple truth that he was on his way back. Back to the home he swore he would never return to while he had breath left inside him.

**

**AZUSA  
**

"What did you say?"

If sparks could come out of a pair of eyes Azusa was certain they would've come out of the Scythe weapon's red ones. A lesser woman would've cowered at the mere sight of those piercing blood-red orbs and the promise of violence within them. However Azusa Yumi was no ordinary woman. She pinned him with a look that reduced more men than anyone could count into blithering babbling idiots.

"Are you suffering from some hearing impairment Evans? I doubt that you do since your last physical did not yield any irregularity of that sort."

The look, strangely enough only made the young man pause. Azusa gave her clipboard a cursory glance to double check the information she fed into her computers. She knew very well the action was not missed by the irate weapon standing in front of her.

"I am fine. I'm just having problems understanding what you just said." He ground out menacingly, making her want to grin and ask about the state of his teeth. With a flick of her hair, she turned to the weapon once more, putting a bit more bite and steel into her words.

"You have a new assignment. Is that clear enough for you? Now gather up your gear and report to the front entrance in six hours." She made moves to dismiss the young man but she was surprised when he proved to be more than reticent. The weapon in question remained standing in front of her, making clear that he had no intentions of simply following her directive.

"Excuse me Azusa-dono but it is NOT clear. I can not go on this assignment."

The indulgent gleam in her eyes vanished in an instant. In its place was the unholy light of a true weapon—cunning and deathly still.

"You cannot? Is that what you're telling me Evans? You will NOT go?"

**

**SOUL**

He held on to his patience will all his strength. He knows that he is fast losing his temper and that blasting this lady wouldn't get him out of the situation any faster than keeping his cool. He tried once more to rein in the impatience that simmered in his veins.

"Yes Ma'am and if you wouldn't mind I prefer that you call me Soul as that is the name that I have been using since I came to Death City."

A twist of her lips was the only response he got for his effort. He struggled mightily as he waited for her to proceed. When she did, it was as though he hardly said anything at all.

"Noted. Now that your preference has been addressed, will you please proceed with your new assignments? I would have to brief you about the parameters of this mission and you would need to coordinate regarding the designation of your other duties to the other weapons under the Reaper's personal charge. Evans, are you listening to me?"

"Soul."he bit out. If she was going to be stubborn about it, then so could he. It was time they paid attention to what he was saying—their own patience be damned.

"Really! Now isn't the time to—!"she sputtered but he cut her off.

"We could argue about other things as well as long as you stop using that name and use my real one."

"Fine. Soul, you have your orders--!"she tried once more and Soul found himself uncaring as he once again forestalled any arguments she might have given right then.

"I'm afraid I would have to decline this time around. As I mentioned a moment ago I have other concerns."

"You will accept this mission Soul Eater Evans. There is no buts, no room for hesitations or personal feelings when fulfilling a mission in behalf of Shibusen. That is your job—what you swore to do when you became the Reaper's Death Scythe."

The rebuke stung but he refused to admit to it. He has priorities and right now he couldn't think straight beyond the fact that he was wasting time here. Time he could be spending—should be spending with her.

"Begging your pardon Azusa-dono, but I have an emergency at the moment and with all due respect I think that my Meister's current situation merits more attention--!"

"Your Meister is the Reaper himself and as far as I can tell having spoken to him just fifteen minutes ago—he is better than fine. I suppose you were referring to the injuries sustained by Maka Albarn, your former technician. Is that what you meant Evans?"

He was prepared for the reprimand. He knows that he has no right to assert himself here—but something inside him refuses to simply abandon Maka. Even knowing the truth that Azusa has a point—he was the Reaper's weapons, no longer Maka's. The moment he became a death scythe their partnership was over but what did that matter now? And yet they kept circling back to that fact.

"Yes."

"You should know better than refuse a mission sent specifically for you. The Reaper himself ordered that you go. I will go on ahead and assume that you would not relish the idea of explaining to him why you're refusing emphatically a direct order."

"Actually I wouldn't mind telling him myself--!"

Asuza's voice sounded like a cracked whip. Even Soul found himself falling silent even as his blood boiled anew. But even he was not proof against the actual heat of Azusa's anger and he knows there is no mistaking the fact that she was angry.

"Know your place! You are a weapon—no, more than that, you are a Death Scythe. You are a weapon intended for the use of the Reaper himself. That means that regardless of any personal feelings you will be his to command. Maka Albarn might have been the one to complete you but that was her job! Yours is to follow the commands of the highest personnel in Death City."

"I understand that--! But it's an emergency! You have to understand--!"

"I understand more than enough. I understand that along with the honor of becoming a Death Scythe comes the responsibility of knowing what is expected of such a powerful being. You are not the first Scythe that's been asked to sacrifice time and preferences. You will not be the last. There is no room for petty personal issues here."

At that instance Soul saw a red haze come into his eyes and for a moment he could've sworn he heard the manic laughter of the black blood imp echo inside his head as he gave vent to his emotions and snarled.

"Petty? I doubt that my Meister, suffering from amnesia because your intelligence report failed to realize that the witch she was suppose to be picking up was an insane trigger happy hag, would consider her current situation as being petty! How dare you!"

"Dare? You are daring much raising your voice at me Evans!"

"Stop harping at me with that name! I told you my name and yet you insist on this matter!"

"That is enough out of you boy!" A voice, familiar and yet unusually solemn sounded just behind him. He turned to look at the man who shares his pain and yet shows none of it.

"Oyaji—no matter what you say, I will not leave Maka. You can strip me of the title Death Scythe if it would make you feel better." He bit out bitterly, casting a scathingly look at the disgusted Azusa.

"Is that so? You would dishonor my daughter this way?"he asks quietly.

"Dishonor--?!"he blanched, askance. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You would throw away everything she has worked for, everything she and you bled for just because you've decided to act like a self-important child?"

"What the hell are you saying old man? I am refusing because I do not want her to be alone!"he responded heatedly.

"She can make it while she is alone. There are friends here that would take care of her and Stein would be helping her get better."

"I can't leave her alone—I left her and this is what happens! She needs me--!"

"You don't know that. You don't know what will happen later in the day or even tomorrow. No one knows how long her amnesia would last. No one knows if she would ever remember who and what she is."

The reminded was like a slap to his face and all the fear he was struggling not to show.

"I can't leave her and take the chance that she won't know who she is. I know her better than most anyone here!"

"That may be. But how well do you know my daughter Soul? Can you look her in the eye Soul-kun and say that you've turned your back on both your dreams? That you you've thrown away years of work because you've allowed your temper to get the better of you?"

His quiet words resounded inside Soul's head with the force of a bomb. Soul felt all the fight leave him and it was all he could do not to slump in defeat.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Why am I asking you to do the right thing? Because you have to...because she would have wanted you to...Get the job done, kid. And when it is over, my daughter will be here waiting for you. I swear it on my honor."

"And if I don't?"

"You wouldn't have to worry about her remembering you. I would send her to the farthest corner of the world just to keep her away from you."

"You can't do that--!" he flinched when Spirit touched his shoulders, hunching in spite of himself and wondered at the fine trembling he felt from the older male.

"Maka deserves a man far better than her own father—far better than a Death Scythe with all too much pride and little sense. Become someone that deserves to be with her—someone worthy enough to rescue her."

**

And so that is why he is here, enclosed within metal cage of his family's towncar, on his way back. Back to the familiar ground where countless other Evans have thrived—living, growing and flourishing beneath the benevolent eye of Winterlance.

"You're strangely quiet Soul-kun…are you not happy to be going back home?"

"I would rather have nails driven through me Tsubaki-san. I never thought I'd see the day I would actually be back here on my own two feet. I thought it would take a miracle or something worse for me to come back-somewhere in the region of a natural disaster."

"You and your family--?"

"Let's just say I cut off all ties from home when I left. I made my mind that when I entered Shibusen, I would no longer recognize or identify with the Evans name."

"And now?"

"After nearly ten years of blissful freedom my family decided to crash my party and remind me that I still have duties to perform. Not the nicest reason for a reunion or the best timing, I'm afraid."

"Do they know that you are--?"

"Oh yeah. And that's probably one the reasons I even got away in the first place. Like you—like Black Star and even Kid, my family was a long line of something. In my case, it was musicians."

"I remember Maka saying that you played the piano when you first met…and then there was that time when we first battled that mosquito-man…"

"Yeah. Piano became my choice since my older brother's hailed as a genius violinist next only to Mozart himself. It's the kind of thing that pretty hard to live up to. When I discovered that I inherited the genetic quirk that made me into a weapon—I guess the choice was taken out of my hands. So I packed up my bags, bid them goodbye and headed out. As far everyone is concerned that should've been the end of it."

"But now you're back."

"Yeah, I'm back. And this time around, I have no idea how it would all play out."

But worse than that, he knew what bothered him the most was the fact that he hadn't been able to say goodbye to his Meister. He left her not knowing if he would still have something to return to when his filial fiasco resolves itself. All in all, Soul was not in a good mood.


	23. Chances, Changes and Charges of Fate

Authors Note: SE still isnt mine. Dang, isn't that just the kicker? On a good note, my writer's block hasn't reared its ugly head so I am terribly happy. Here's a new part. Hope, as always, that it would be met with favor. - kuroren

Notes: _Italics_ = internal musings/thoughts/dialogue

**_Italics + bold _**= flashback

* * *

**MAKA  
**

The days following her treatment and subsequent release from the hospital were all a blur. She found herself bundled up and sent home with the vague instruction to try, as best as she could, to remember everything that has happened to her for the last ten years. She was simply told by the patchwork quilt professor (_although watching him take numerous falls with that chair made her doubt the title almost as much as she doubts his sanity_) that someone would come along and assist her during this difficult period in her life.

So confused and uncertain as she was about the state of her own mind as much as that of her well-being, she dressed in the clothes that they gave her and wondered anew why the young man that held her hands with such intimacy hasn't been around since he last stormed out of her room. And though she has berated and reprimanded herself for feeling the way she did, she couldn't help but feel abandoned. It was an uncomfortable feeling for someone who has a significant chunk of her past missing. Somehow his absence made her feel more vulnerable—alone—as she hadn't felt when he was around.

_What a silly thought…I don't even know who he is…well…not completely at least._

She cast aside the wistful, confusing thoughts and concentrated on the task at hand. She was told that she was being sent home, that was what she should be thinking of. She took a final look at the room where she had awakened and felt the thinnest shiver of unease. She watched, both wary and unaccountably amused as the man who cried a puddle in her room insisted that he be the one to take her home since he was her father. Wanting only solace and silence, she agreed though she almost backed out of the agreement when everyone (_or nearly everyone_) that heard the arrangement screamed their disbelief into the high heavens. And yet all throughout the bickering that ensued with her announcement of her intent to depart with the overly emotional man, not once had he allowed himself to release his gentle hold on her wrist.

It was his care with her—more than anything—that reassured her that no matter what her "friends" say or how they reacted, the man insisting that he bring her home would never cause her harm. That and the look of utter misery in his eyes that spoke of loneliness and longing he was effectively concealing beneath his blustering ways. How she knew of the truth of his feelings, she couldn't even begin to explain, but it was there all the same.

_This man…cares for me…truly cares for me…it would not hurt me to trust him…_

* * *

**SPIRIT**

The house hasn't been thoroughly cleaned in the last few years but he has endeavored to restore some semblance of order into the space that he has used for nearly a quarter of a century. He got Blair to spruce up the place and like all the other times since Maka has gone from her original apartment and left the witchy cat without a permanent home, she agreed to take on the task of making his hovel into a home. Blair who perhaps saw more into him—more of what he hid from the world and never said a word to anyone, simply smiled and went on her merry ways, vanishing the years of neglect and abandonment that seemed to have hung around for as long as he could remember.

_Gods of Hades…fifteen years of silence…no wonder the house never seemed much of a home after they left…after that all I had were the phantoms…little wonder why I never stayed here long enough to recall what it looked like._

But that was in the past. Like the home that would now receive his little girl—the house that was once a mute witness to the death of one of his dreams—this time it would be warm, comfortable and familiar. Home would be an ideal sanctuary for her and should anyone come and attempt to harm her, well, what better guard for a scythe-specialist than an in-house scythe weapon available and willing 24-hour each and every day? He was being given another chance to fix things—to make things better especially his relationship with his little girl, with his life.

_My little girl…yes…she is my little girl…and soon…she will be again…I will earn back my place in my little girl's heart…_

_**(Flashback two days ago)**_

_**"Spirit, what are you doing here?"**_

_**"Is it me or are you getting senile Sempai? Last time I checked that was still my daughter that's lying there on that bed. So why don't you indulge me, Sempai, and actually tell me what the hell is going on?"**_

_**He was certain that a quick gleam of amusement and surprise flashed in Stein's jaded eyes. It took a full moment and about five minutes of being stared at before the strongest Meister nodded. Spirit wasn't insulted by it. He, more than most, understood the reality of what he has done with his own reputation. He was viewed by the other Death Scythes as a joke—an aberration created simply because his partner happened to be a really powerful technician who made the Witch-hunter known. In short, he became a**__**completed weapon just by tagging along. Even after he was placed in the service of the Reaper, it was like a brand—a mark of his utter inadequacy that he was to be HIS weapon during years of peace—years when NO fighting was to be expected. He became known as something of an oddity, a pet for the otherwise, almost retiring Death God.**_

_**"A fragment of her soul was ripped out when she was attacked by a witch."**_

_**"It must have been someone powerful enough to know exactly how and what to pull out of her—my daughter's still alive."**_

_**_

"Spirit-chan? Is there anything else that I should get for you?"

"Huh? Ah no, Blair-chan. How is she?"

The smile the cat gave him was both amused and mixed with a wealth of understanding. She waved away the last of the clothes needed to be put away and sat herself on the couch. She poured him a cup of tea before taking a sip of her own warm milk.

"She is sleeping like an angel. She seemed to settle in very quickly. You were right to suggest that I decorate her room in soothing pastel colors. Apparently, you knew your daughter's taste more than you let on."

"Choosing color is easy. She is like her mother in that sense. Kami preferred soothing shades to balance out the sharpness and clarity of the world she lives in. She told me once that a technician needs a bit of sanctuary every once in a while. For her, it was free-spaces and distance that she longed for more than anything else in the world."

_**A smile and a short shake of Stein's head made his hand itch and he wrestled for a second with the idea of hitting the smart-mouthed madman.**_

_**"Save me the disbelieving looks Sempai. I know everyone automatically assumes that my ex-wife was the brains of our dynamic duo and I would be the first one to acknowledge that fact but for the record, she didn't tolerate the fact that I didn't want to learn anything. She made sure I learned something every single time we went out to hunt."**_

_**"Must have been an interesting relationship, that one. I for one, never saw that coming. She must have cared for you a whole lot."**_

_**"She married me, didn't she? Despite the fact that to everyone that knew about us tried their hardest to dissuade her. Now stop pussy-footing around and spit it out."**_

"Ah, is that so? Maka-chan spent all those years with Soul-kun and I thought for certain he would've influenced her in some ways. He might have been a bit of an arrogant little shrimp then, but my, did that little boy have a sense of style." Blair gave out a giggle, cat ears popping out from the top her head.

"He was an elegant little man, so unusual in someone that age. He must've come from some wealthy family before he came here."

The offhand comment made him look at the witchy-cat with something akin to surprise. Although he must have seen the brat with his daughter a million times already, he admits that he has never paid attention to the young whelp beyond the fact that he seemed to have gotten too close to his daughter for his peace of mind. The comment however acted like a switch inside his head, triggering memories like a running mini-movie in his mind.

"What do you mean Blair-chan?"

"Oh well, his clothes are always the expensive kind—exclusive labels and he had, oh more than a dozen or so suits, hanging in his closet, kept in individual garment bags of all things. He wasn't fussy or anything mind you, its just he seems to be used to getting just the finest things."

"Snooty little bugger. I saw him during that fiasco of an anniversary—the year the Kishin got out. Wearing a suit I was dead-certain was Italian and a silk shirt no less. But how can a kid afford that?"

She stood and picked up the used cups, proceeding into kitchen as she talked. He followed her, intent to hear more about the heretofore unknown aspect of her daughter's chosen weapon. He would not, however, admit that he was curious about the young whelp.

"No doubt it would have been exactly that. Blair is telling you, even one with magic knows those things. They were the kind of things one pays a lot of money for. Soul never bought anything except what he needed. He was surprisingly thrifty that way and only splurges occasionally. His biggest vice was food and that baby grand that he haul out of somewhere."

Spirit snorted before picking up a tea towel to help dry up the dishes. The action seemed almost absent-minded, his movements easy and fluid.

"Surprised Maka didn't throw a fit having something that big consuming all her precious space and that of her precious books."

Blair laughed some more before stacking the dried dishes with a wave of her hand.

"Maka agreed to put the piano inside the library she insisted on having. It was a good compromise on their part and Soul promised that she won't be bothered by it. I figured she already tolerated the bike, so what's one more thing?"

"What bike?"he asked, incredulous at the many information he seemed to have forgotten or never knew about.

"Haven't you noticed his bike? That big, gleaming hunk of chrome love that he kept in front of the apartment?" she gave out a little laugh and licked her lips in appreciation. "Whooee, that boy sure has the finest toy imaginable. He loved that bike a whole lot and not a few hundred boys, not to mention grown men, in Death City lusted after that ride."

Blair waved him goodnight and walked out into the night to wherever it was she spent her sleeping hours. He knows too, that she would be around just before dawn breaks. She has been surprisingly mothering to Maka since her injury and there was no one who could care for Maka when he wasn't around. His only other option was a few thousand miles away.

_**"You sound so much like that boy."**_

_**"He isn't a boy anymore and believe me, that's more annoying than I can tell you. But like her mother before her, I love and trust my daughter and the choices she's made. She hasn't caused me to feel anything except pride in her."**_

_**"As you said, she did trust him and with good reason. What ever it was that was in that pendant may have saved her life."**_

_**"What pendant?"**_

_**Stein took from a small intricately decorated locked box from her bedside table and withdrew from its depths a glittering pendant that swung suspended from a delicate chain. Spirit gave out a low wolf whistle.**_

_**"Dang. That is something else isn't it?"**_

_**"As a piece of bauble it certainly is something else. And just this once, I am thankful some men knew enough about gems to give their girl the perfect accessory."**_

He walks into the room Blair fixed up for Maka. In truth, it was her old one and how Blair knew, he didn't think to ask. It was just one of those things that strike a man as being rather iconic. As he stared at her slumbering face, he wonders at the snatches of memory he has had regarding the events that occurred during the last few days.

_**He gave a nod and Stein gave one of his in turn. Then Stein took one of his hands and placed the pendant and chain in his hand.**_

_**"Tell me how it feels…"**_

_**He heard the question as if it was muffled beneath a thick cloud of matting. The moment the pendant touched his skin, everything in the room became muted and still.**_

_**"Like something cut me off from the living world."**_

_**Stein gave a smile—wickedly amused and excited like a child—and the sight of it sent a bolt of unease straight into the depths of his gut. Cold sweat broke out on his skin.**_

_**"Don't smile like that about something connected to my little girl Sempai."**_

_**"Sorry…it's just that it would seem the sensation could only be felt by weapons. I had Marie touch it and that's the same thing she felt—a cessation of any sensation or sense of perception."**_

_**"I see…what does that mean?"**_

_**"I am not certain yet. There is the fact that weapons and technicians perceive things differently as well. I, for one, felt a sense of detachment and intense melancholy when I touched the necklace. Touching it felt—intrusive and at the same time, it was like I held in my hand something very fragile and very afraid."**_

_**"Why did you say it saved her life?"**_

_**"According to her companions, the witch plunged its hand into Maka's chest and pulled out something resembling a score of music. Apparently, her soul manifested itself as such. Kid who was nearby and was waiting to attack the witch saw two flashes of light come out from the attack."**_

_**'Two? But she was only attacked once right?"**_

_**"That's right. I am thinking that somehow, when the witch tried to rip out Maka's soul it didn't fade off into oblivion but rather what she inadvertently managed was simply soul transference."**_

He stares at his daughter face, the tug of emotions still fresh as when he first saw her, newly born and just bathed, staring at her and just marveling that someone like him had been given a chance to be part of something so miraculous. Maka was his personal miracle. And as much as he admits his lecherous ways severed his bond with his wife, he found that nothing could sever his bond with his child. She might have taken after his wife in inclination and coloring as well as her studious nature, still, deep inside her core, she shares her most telling nature with him—Maka was born fighting her fears and doing all that she could rescuing lost lambs. His daughter was a scrapper—a technician's soul mixed in with a weapon's pragmatic nature.

_**"Soul transference? What the hell—she isn't a witch Stein! There is no way!!"**_

_**"She is no witch, that is to be certain, Spirit, but it so happens, there was a conduit there that allowed the transfer."**_

_**"The witch…"**_

_**"Indeed. With her hand effectively buried into her body, Maka's entire self became simply another extension of Medea's own. Ergo, the transfer became not only feasible but an actuality."**_

_**"But lets just say hypothetically that that's what happened. Allowing for the quirk that allowed for such an event—where is my daughter's soul? Where did the witch toss aside her soul fragment?"**_

_**"Remember when I told you Death the Kid saw two flashes?"**_

_**"Yeah. What about it?"**_

_**"The soul got transferred into this."**_

_**"Oh no…she trapped it inside those damned necklaces?"**_

_**"Necklaces?"**_

_**"Yeah, it's a pair. The pendant is actually two pieces that forms into the quarter note. See here?"**_

He sat next to Maka, his fingers brushing back the wispy tendrils that brushed against her cheek, most of her face, as was her habit, buried beneath the softness of a pillow. His fingers grazed against the cool gold chain and once again snatches of conversation returned to him.

_**"Fascinating."**_

_**"Please don't use that word. You can really be scary when you say things like that."**_

_**"So the pendant is actually an orb and a scythe. Interesting choice of design."**_

_**"I wonder at that boy, but apparently he likes music. Maka once told me that they matched up their souls when they first met by listening to the piano. Seems like the arrogant brat knows how to play the piano."**_

_**"Hey Spirit, have you noticed it yet."**_

_**"Yeah, I know people think I'm thick but it would've been impossible not to notice something like this."**_

_**"I want you to agree to a little experiment of mine if you will. If everything goes to according to my supposition, we would hit two birds with one stone. We would help restore Maka-chan's memory as well as open a window into the very reason we hunt for witches' soul—their ability to transform and transfer souls into convenient vessels."**_

_**"What's the damn catch and don't tell me there isn't Stein."**_

_**"Simple really. You see when we took the necklace away from Maka, she became agitated—as if we took something from her that she could only feel but not identify, much less recall. In short, the necklace bridges her soul's memory with that of her body."**_

_**"What's the test then Sempai—what is this insane idea that you have this time?"**_

_**"I want you to make sure that she wears the necklace—this one."**_

_**"Why not the other? That one has more of that aura that I sensed before."**_

_**"Precisely. Unless you missed it, let me ask you again, do you know what this orb is Spirit?"**_

_**"It's an emerald."**_

_**"Correct. And these red stones that form this delightful shape"**_

_**"I want to say they're rubies but that smile on your face tells me they aren't."**_

_**"No, and actually it was Marie who identified them for me."**_

_**"And?"**_

_**"It's his blood."**_

_**"The brat's blood? Weapon—dang it."**_

_**"I told you it was something else. Clever boy. If you don't watch out for it, that little monster's going to take your little girl."**_

_**"I'd sooner take his head off."**_

_**"You won't always be there to tell her what she can and cannot do. She will make her choice. She always has."**_

He knows that. Soon she won't be his anymore. He has no illusion where that quarter is concerned. He has known of that truth since the very first time she brought that boy home with her. It was there—in her eyes shining with hope—his precious, all-too trusting fearless daughter. And it was in his eyes—those crimson eyes that held on to hope warily in his hands…who looked at his daughter with amusement and awe and hungry hope she gave so willingly and unquestioningly to him. Oh yes…he is well aware that he is about to lose her, but maybe this time he could ensure a place in her new life. One he could earn back with this chance fate gave him.

"_**This isn't the first time you saw this, right?"**_

_**"Nah…saw it the night of the graduation ball. Shone right off my little girl what with her wearing a black velvet gown and her hair swept up like a grown up lady."**_

_**"Didn't it worry you then?"**_

_**"What the hell do you think it did? Nearly gave me a heart-attack when I saw it and I collared the arrogant bastard. Told me some line of bull about showing his gratitude and whatnot but I believed him when he told me it wasn't a collar for my little girl."**_

_**"Spirit you are something else. Why in the five hells did you think that?"**_

Stein expected him to give a quick answer but the truth was Spirit didn't know why he thought the all-too laid back scythe would lay claim on his little girl. Maybe it was the look in her eyes when she looked him, the ease in the way her hands clung to his. Or maybe it was the possessiveness in the scythe weapons entire manner. In the end, there really was only one reason.

_**"They looked—right together."**_

_"__**Ah…is that so?"**_

_**"Yeah and besides I told myself she couldn't do worse than an actual Death Scythe who at least bled for her more times than I can count. I figured he'd have to be good enough for something—even if it's just being my little girl's shield."**_

_**(End of Flashback)  
**_

_What I didn't say at the time was that I was afraid. That I was fearful of the knowledge and the truth that I had no right to tell her what to do. She found him, all on her own. She went through her training without ever depending on anyone but herself and that smart-mouthed scythe. I figured I had no say and that there are other ways and opportunities for me to prove that I loved her in my own way. And now, with this thing, this time I could be my daughter's Papa once more. I could fix some of the things I messed up and maybe, just maybe I could make her see that not all men are blinded by a pretty face or a merry laugh…that maybe she could take a chance on one of them…_


	24. Homestyle Interrogations

**Disclaimer: **Soul Eater is not mine and though I could weep and wail and plead, I seriously doubt O. Atsushi would give it to me. *Sigh*

Authors Note: I apologize for the delay. Somehow writing about a character in transit was never my strongest suit. And though at times this fic becomes more serious than I originally intended, I am always keeping in mind that my original intent was to create a tale with humor in it. Hopefully, there is still some "laugh-genes" left inside me. Please enjoy --kuroren23

Note: Italics + bold = memory

Italics = internal thought

* * *

**SOUL POV  
**

"_**You would dishonor my daughter this way...You would throw away everything she has worked for, everything she and you bled for just because you've decided to act like a self-important child?"**_

_Honestly. The old man doesn't know how to pull his punches. What in the hell was he thinking springing that line on me? Just when I was comfortable with him being a resident idiot he just had to pull a stunt like that. I know I wasn't thinking straight and that on any ordinary day it would've been Maka who'd be acting like an impulsive hyperactive child out on a quest but who can blame me? My meister was laid low by some whacko witch and they're saddling me with a mission I wouldn't have accepted even if she had been well._

"_**She can make it while she is alone. There are friends here that would take care of her and Stein would be helping her get better."**_

_Oh sure. Like she wasn't surrounded by our friends when that witch stuck her crummy hands into her body and just ripped out her soul like so much confetti. I know that I'm being petty about feeling that they were somehow to blame but the truth was that I'm just mad at myself because more than anything I know that it was MY fault she got hurt. If I only agreed when she asked me to come, she wouldn't be in this mess. So I really can't argue with the fact that I DON'T want to leave her alone._

"_**You don't know that. You don't know what will happen later in the day or even tomorrow. No one knows how long her amnesia would last. No one knows if she would ever remember who and what she is."**_

_Like that's not my biggest fear. I know that deep down, that's what's bothering me, nagging at me like a persistent ache in my chest. She could forget all about me and my not being there could make it all the more easier for her to discard the memory of an absent partner. If she does remember—it would doubly hurt that I wasn't there when she needed me most. Why can't they understand that I need to be with her? That this was something we promised each other from the very beginning?_

"_**How well do you know my daughter Soul…"**_

_How well do I know her…gods…what a question…how well do I know Maka…I wonder if there are words enough to say how well I do know her…at times even better than I know myself …I know about my partner…she has walked into my soul and once, a long, long time ago I was allowed to walk into hers…so yeah, I knew her_…

"_**Can you look her in the eye Soul-kun and say that you've turned your back on both your dreams? That you you've thrown away years of work because you've allowed your temper to get the better of you**_**?"**

_Okay so I do admit that there still so many aspects in her that I haven't fully explored. We valued our privacy just as well as we share it…I don't want to think that there are sides to her that she has kept from me…I know that we held the dream of turning me into a death scythe…she had her dream of living up to the skills her mother displayed and I had the wish to be the very best scythe weapon ever….am I really turning my back on that now—now that it is the only thing keeping us tied to one another—that link that could never EVER be severed?_

"_**Why am I asking you to do the right thing? Because you have to...because she would have wanted you to...Get the job done, kid. And when it is over, my daughter will be here waiting for you. I swear it on my honor."**_

_She better be. Because despite my absolute irritation and annoyance with this babysitting job, there is the fact that it is a job and that if there is anything she would insist on, no matter the situation—its carrying out the job. I know that when all is said and done, she would want me to fix this fiasco especially if she finds out that it's with my family. She can be quite an activist—just look what she did with Crona and if there was ever a person who needed fixing because of family problems Crona would be it. Had she been sentient enough to know my uncle finally found me, she'd be at the head of the line forcing me to go back home._

"_**You wouldn't have to worry about her remembering you. I would send her to the farthest corner of the world just to keep her away from you."**_

_Knowing him as well as I do (and from the things I've learned from Maka) he probably would make good of that promise. He might even do the unthinkable in which case, that would mean calling in reinforcements (READ:his ex-wife). He might send his daughter there and make his wife drag Maka away on her trips just to keep her out of my sight if I annoy him enough._

"_**Maka deserves a man far better than her own father—far better than a Death Scythe with all too much pride and little sense. Become someone that deserves to be with her—someone worthy enough to rescue her."**_

_He got that right. No way in five hells I'm allowing my tech to be with any kind of lecherous fool who wouldn't know what good thing he had until he lost it. So okay, I'm being bitter as hell but that's the truth. I will not, could not and do not want her anywhere near any other man. I will rescue her…there is no question whatsoever in my mind—I will make myself worthy of her…and should anyone stand in my way—oh well…they should know better than take something from a death scythe, especially the Demon Scythe._

* * *

**KID  
**

"You have been staring outside that window ever since we started this trip. You might develop a crick in your neck."

The voice that spoke was coolly unamused though the thread of authority in it was unmistakable. Soul glanced at the lounging Death god and had to resist the urge to comment on his apparent unease. Apparently Kid dislikes confined spaces. His eyes simply communicated that he heard the comment but he immediately transferred his gaze back to the view outside, his mind pre-occupied with his own musings. When he spoke, his words dripped with exasperation held barely in check.

"I already had the pain in the neck assignment—you should know, your dad assigned me in one. So I seriously doubt that staring outside would make the pain go away but thanks for reminding me."

"Oh honestly you look like were going to your execution. Will you please lighten up? You are totally screwing up my karmic harmony for today."Liz rolled her eyes and resumed her chanting as she sat in lotus position on one of the other long seats running along the sides of the limousine. Next to her sat her twin sister who was busily picking out lint from Kid's jacket.

"Liz wants karma…good karma."

"That's right Patty now, we'll do Kid's reading!"

The aforementioned reaper smiled but shook his head and directed orders to his twin weapons as the others looked on.

"No, you won't and I forbid you from making more noise. Now be quiet or I will have to ask you to change into weapons I can stuff elsewhere."

"Meanie!"

Liz smiled at the chagrined expression on her technicians face before taking pity on him. "Don't worry, we'll keep quiet. Why don't you watch the scenery outside Patty and we'll play I-spy?"

"Alright!" Patty clapped her hands like a rambunctious child before settling down. Tsubaki gave the two a grateful smile.

"Thank you Liz."

Kid drummed his hand on the arm rest for a beat before shifting in his seat to face Soul fully. There was an unusually penetrating look in the reaper's eyes that failed to register with the distracted scythe weapon. Still, the reaper waited for a moment more before finally speaking.

"Actually I wanted them to be quiet because I have a question to ask…actually one that's been on my mind for sometime and I hope you would answer me truthfully Soul seeing as there is no one here t[ overhear the conversation, least ways, no one we both didn't trust completely."

Soul leveled a look at the fidgeting reaper. It wasn't at all usual to see the normally self-possessed young Death God looking ill-at-ease. Soul wonders how long the obsessive man has wanted to ask and didn't. If at all, it was a measure of the degree of trust they have built within their group.

"Shoot. As long as it's something I can answer then go right ahead. There is nothing to do here but wait out the hours until we reach that place."

Kid knew the words, easily mistaken for rudeness and coarse behavior, were Soul's way of saying he would be willing to answer his inquiries up to the point when things went past his comfort zone.

"Alright then. Consider this as simply a means of gathering information, you understand. I mean you have been in residence at Shibusen for years now and yet your records are shall we say—distressingly scarce."

"You checking up on me Kid?" he asked smirking meaningfully and was amused when a tell-tale blush appeared on the reaper's cheeks. Clearing his throat meaningfully, Kid proceeded with remarkable aplomb.

"No more than necessary as part of my would-be duties as Reaper. Now are you ready to answer me?"

"Shoot."

Kid took a deep breath but before he could begin a childish voice piped in.

"Shoot? Shoot what? Can we shoot something Kid?"

"No! Now behave yourself Patty."

"If there's nothing to shoot then why did you say shoot?"

"I didn't say shoot, I said there wasn't anything here that requires shooting. It was Soul who said shoot."

"So are we shooting him?"

"No!"

"Then why didn't you say so?"

"Fine. I will call you when its time to shoot okay?"

"Aye aye!"

"As I was saying…! Now what in the world! Black Star what in the world are you doing?" Kid asked incredulously as their supposedly invisible guard slid into the opened sun roof and dived right in between Kid's legs, sniffing like a bloodhound out for a meal.

"Its been four hours since I ate, and since Stein threw me out before I managed to filch a few fruits from Maka's room, I'm starving!"

"Black Star! Oh dear, I am so sorry—"Tsubaki stammered an apology once more, askance at her Meister's propensity towards eating.

"Why are you apologizing all the time? Its not like we don't know what he's like, that stupid pig." Soul pointed out.

Black Star only snorted as he continued to scavenge around for food items, annoyed at having found only a tube of crackers, a few bars of chocolate and four bottles of water and two cases of soda in the mini-bar. He rummaged some more and snorted when he added three bags of chips and six sandwiches to his haul.

"You are an insatiable voracious cretin who shouldn't even be called a ninja! How can you mind your stomach at a time like this you stupid ninja wanna-be?"

"What other time should I mind it? If I don't eat now, it wouldn't matter if I am greater than a god, I'd be dead from starvation and then what good would I be? And I am not stupid—ok so I don't have an IQ like Maka whatever the hell that's worth but I am not a pig. Someone a big as I am needs all the nourishment I could get. Now scoot over and let me eat in peace."

"Black Star!"

"You inconsiderate pig!!!"

Soul snickered as Kid palpitated and shouted about Black Star blowing his cover. Soul wondered if he should tell the reaper that all his screaming wasn't helping.

* * *

Fifteen minutes after, amidst the demolished remains of what used to be the contents of the mini-bar, Black Star sat cleaning his teeth while his eyes scanned the surrounding area, his ears attuned somewhat to the conversation between Kid and Soul. With a final satisfied belch, he slid open the sun roof once more and stealthily left the car, to vanish silently, once more from their immediate sight. Tsubaki assured them that he would not have any problems keeping up with them/

"Now, as I was saying before the rude pig interrupted, would you mind telling us a few things that were left out on your file?"

"Just get to the damn thing Kid before Black Star's stomach rumbles again."

"Fine. I want to know when you found out that you were a weapon."

"I don't know if it's actually a when—guess more like I how. There was an incident with the family car—I nearly sliced the passenger door in half when we got rear-ended by another car. I was trying to hold on to the door—but something suddenly made me plunge my hand—I can't remember it all now."

"How old were you then?"

"The car incident occurred when I was three I think… Well, after that I guess I got scared or I forgot how to transform because I wouldn't be able to duplicate that until I was about eight or so…"

"Three, that's pretty young…"

"Oh yeah? When did you guys find out?"

Tsubaki looked down at her hands and traced the decorative tattoo that circled her wrist marking her with the emblem of the demon blade and her absorption of her brother's soul. "I came from a family of weapons. In my home, the heir inherits the most number of weapon-types one is able to transform into."

"Yeah but when did the weapon form appear?"

"I found out when I was about seven or six…there is a ceremony in our household that enables children in our bloodline to show their potential."

Soul turned to the Thompson twins who were by now back into their human forms (they had to come out because Kid nearly wept buckets when Black Star refused to have his sandwiches cut in precise quarters)."What about you two?"

"Ah well, Patty and I grew up on the streets so it wasn't like we had time to be ushered into the thing. But I did remember we were barely five by then, and some older kids were trying to mug us. Why do you want to know?"

"Are you asking because you were wondering what triggered the appearance of the scythe?" Kid asked.

"Yeah. I got teased in school for having razor teeth. Some idiotic kid called me a shark and a freak. When I got home it was like I blacked out and when I came to, my bed was reduced to feathers and kindling. As you can probably guess, my parents freaked."

"They didn't react well to your gift?" Tsubaki asked, touching his shoulders in sympathy. Soul was taken aback by the look of concern in her eyes for what could've happened. Soul was reminded there and then that his technician was right when she mentioned once that only someone like Tsubaki could master the storm that was Black Star. He realized that the weapon beside him was filled with empathy and while she could not warm him or calm him with the same way as Maka, she could offer him a brief instance of peace. He inclined his head in thanks.

"I don't think anyone in my immediate family thought of it as a gift. I remember my father staring at the doctor for minutes on end—even after my mother collapsed on the floor unconscious. He was still staring him when they carried her out. Certainly the only person that thought it was cool was Wes."

"Who is Wes?" Liz asked, keeping her hand on Kid and telling him quietly that she knows what to ask.

"He's my older brother. He was the family favorite and of course heir to the Evans legacy."

"He knows about you?"

"I showed him my arm just before I told everyone I was moving out. He could've told me to stay and work on my piano and that I could just forget about that part of me but he didn't. He understood, I guess more than anyone at Winterlance, why I needed to leave and start somewhere new. His one advice was that I continue playing. For some reason he liked what he heard from me. Couldn't figure out what it was or why—he certainly was the only other one to like what I play."

"The only other?"

"Yeah. Maka thinks for some reason that I play really well."

***

**SOUL**

"How far along do you think we need to travel Soul-kun? I feel like we've been on the road for hours." Tsubaki inquired softly. Soul took a look outside his window and thought about the last time he passed by these roads.

"Wait a sec."

Soul touched one of the many buttons on the console beside him and a disembodied voice he quickly recognized as the guard Niall spoke.

"Yes, Mr. Evans?"

"How far are we from the house?"

The guard spoke after a beat."We should be arriving at the outskirts of the estate in half an hour sir."

"I see."

"Would there be anything else you need sir?"

"Other than to tell you again to drop the sir-crap?"

"Yes sir."

Soul rolled his eyes and gave a weary bark of laughter. The man might be a stickler for rules but he does have that offbeat humor as his saving grace.

"Yeah. You can do something for me. Find me the nearest place that sells burgers or pizza or both."

"Sir? The mini-bar is stocked—"

"The mini-bar is empty Niall. And if you don't locate a place where food is readily available in ample amounts you would find this car empty of leather and every other consumable item including the rest of your hapless passengers."

"Sir! I'm sorry but I was told not to deviate from the convoy--!"

"My friend is already chewing my leg to the bone--!" From somewhere above their heads a voice hissed at him.

"Hey! Don't blow my cover!" Black Star hissed.

"And I seriously doubt that you want to be the one to explain to my uncle why I arrived like a half gnawed upon bone." Silence greeted this last statement. When the convoy detoured away from the back roads and merged with mainstream traffic Soul gave a small smile and then he leaned back to enjoy the trip.

**

The door beside him opened on whisper of silk and leather. Alighting he deliberately did not look at the house. Instead, his eyes scanned the grounds, hoping that he would have time to compose himself. Somewhere behind him he could hear the gasp of indrawn breath from his companions and he had to smile. He knew that they were now busy re-assessing everything they knew about him or what they thought they knew.

The house stood in isolated splendor, flanked by virgin woodlands that stretched for hundreds of acres. Manicured lawns and fruit trees, topiaries cut into graceful, intricate, maze-like designs and everywhere else around the building where flowers of every imaginable type and hue. And right smack into the heart of this awesome view stood Winterlance—the official country residence to countless generations of Evans. Styled along the lines of classic Palladian design, tall, stately white columns wrapped around the two-storey mansion in a symphony of symmetry and architectural design. The steps leading to the front door were of polished black granite—a startling and spectacular counterpoint to the rich creamy whiteness of its walls and pillars. Twin doors of carven oak stood like silent sentinels atop the granite steps. It has always been guarded by the Evans family seneschal who scrutinized those that would be worthy of gaining entry into the hallowed family residence.

He looked back at his companions and immediately sweat-dropped at the sight of the chagrined look in Liz and Tsubaki's faces.

Kid was in raptures over his house.

"Its-its!! Symmetrical!!!What beauty! What elegance! What beautiful example of symmetry! This is perfection!"

"Hey Kid, you okay?"

"Soul! This-!!!"

"Yeah, this is Winterlance."

Soul finally turned around and looked upon his family home; waiting for nostalgia to hit him but even that was curiously absent. He drew in a deep breath and savored the perfume of the gardens, closing his eyes to better capture the essence of home but all that he felt was the faintest stirring of curiosity. He turned to look at his companions and saw that all of them were staring at something past his shoulders. He followed the path of their gaze and saw a familiar sight.

"Young Master Soul, Welcome home…"


	25. Seneschals and Stirrings of Fate

AUTHORS NOTE: Standard disclaimer applies. I am sorry for the delay. Lost in revisions of NG. But now that this reached such an interesting stage, I will post another one soon. Tell me what you think and as always enjoy! - kuroren23.

* * *

The familiar feel of the perfumed wind wafted around Soul like a pair of loving arms. Lost as he was in the memories that his old home had in store, he was well aware too, of the all-too familiar feeling of lack within himself. He made it back…came full circle and now all he desires is the familiar streets of Death City and the face and form of one particular technician. His technician. More than anything at that moment he wished deep in his heart that she was here to see all of this—his past, his roots—with him.

"_Young Master Soul, Welcome home…"_

Soul turned at the sound of the deep, gravely disembodied voice. The rest jumped into attention, surprised at the fact that someone came up to them without their knowing. The straight backed, looming figure appeared suddenly as if conjured from the mist. Clothed in a dark suit and with gloved hands kept studiously behind his back, he bowed low but kept his eyes pinned to the figure of the white haired scythe.

"It has been many years…I have always know you will come home. It is an honor to be the first one to welcome you back, Young Master Soul."

"You have learned to be quite stealthy in your time Cheery."

A dark, dry laugh came from the man's throat but the rest of the gang shivered at the sound. If the name was anything to go by, the name was obviously not apt. His face was grave and serious, his thin lips pressed into a firm, unyielding line and his eyes watchful and ever-so vigilant.

"Without you here, Young Master, there has been nothing for me to do. I have had time to practice. But I have forgotten myself." He straightened for a moment before pivoting gracefully and bowing to the stunned assembly of weapons and technician. "Welcome, honored guests. Welcome to the Evans stronghold. Welcome to Winterlance. My name is Cheery, I am the Evans' butler."

_Cheery? _Liz stared at the old man and wondered who named him. _If there was ever anything not cheery, it was this man's very form and face._ He looked anything but cheery and she was certain that the same thought passed inside their head. Kid apparently feeling not the same way, beamed at the old man and gave a smile_._

"I am Death the Kid. We are emissaries from Death City." Kid, apparently in control of his joyous discovery of the house's acceptable symmetry, bowed to the old servant diffidently. "We came here in behalf of the request of Creed Romulus Evans."

"We have been informed by Master Creed of your arrival. We have refreshments and accommodations waiting for you. If you would follow me, please."

Their little entourage followed in the silent wake of the old, dignified-looking servant. They came up the steps and waited while he reached out and pulled an exquisite, aged bell-pull. The massive double doors swung open with a sigh. Cheery and the two doormen bowed and swept an arm towards the awaiting hall.

"Please, would you come in, honored guests?"

The doors lead to an elegantly appointed foyer. Marble floors the color of sandstone and lined with deep plush carpet the color of the deepest burgundy lie beneath their feet. Antique hall tables supported massive vases filled with fragrant roses and other summer blooms. Faint light emitted by cleverly concealed recessed wall lighting cast a warm glow to the grand entrance of the mansion.

"Oh my dear…is this really your home Soul?'

"Gods in Hades this is really something."

"Did you grow up here Soul?"

"Yeah…this was where I grew up. I haven't been back in some years—."

"Ten years, six months, forty five days and sixteen hours to be exact young Master."

"You are, as always, exceptional Cheery. Is Mrs. Grims still here?"

"As long as she is around, Winterlance stands, Young Master Soul. Surely you have not forgotten that."

"Mrs. Grims? Who's that Soul-kun?"

"The housekeeper. She and Cheery has been around since I can remember. They are the powers that govern Winterlance. No one else could run this place like them."

Soul and his friend trailed after the ancient seneschal into another opulent hall, lined this time with portraits and faces that resembled the sometimes taciturn scythe. Here and there were people, rare though, with eyes that burned with the same flame as his. Cheery led them to the front room where a massive curbed twin staircase led to the upper room. He gestured towards the one that lead to the left.

"We have prepared rooms Young Master. The Madam gave instructions that our guest be housed in the West wing. My honored ladies will be roomed to the left of the hall, the gentleman to the right."

"Thank you kind sir. We are sorry for the inconvenience." Tsubaki bowed towards the old man and received a smile in return.

"It is no inconvenience Miss. Your luggage will be brought up in a minute. Dinner will be served in an hour and half, honored guests."

"Cheery…"

"Yes, Young Master Soul?"

"What has happened here?"

"It would be best to discuss it with The Madam. Should you have any further questions after meeting with the Madam, I would be happy to answer them for you."

"Crafty as always, aren't you old man?"

"And only you seem to have noticed that, young master."

"Thank you Cheery."

"And thank you for returning home, young master. And oh, Young Master?"

"Yes?"

"Will the shadow flittering outside also require sustenance? I'm sure that the fare from the orchard would sustain him but I do not wish to compromise the honor of the service offered by the Evans' name." A wicked gleam in the old man's eyes set Kid and Soul gasping.

"How--?" the young Reaper wondered aloud and was surprised to see the old man chuckle.

"Ah, young masters, my rheumy old eyes might not work as well as it once did…but my ears work just fine. Next time, perhaps, you might tell him not to pass through the dovecotes and the bakery and then, maybe I won't hear him."

"Black Star that ravenous pig!"

"Oh dear lord, I am so sorry."

"Well, then Cheery, since you know about him, I could only ask you to keep him a secret. Feed him well and don't let anyone else know that he is about. He is my ace in the hole you see."

Kid snorted in annoyance. "Some ace we have. He would jeopardize everything just to stuff his cavernous stomach."

"It is no hardship for me to keep him hidden. I will keep him fed and make certain that he is kept away from the sight of the others. Call for me should you have any other need. I shall send in the housekeeper to lead you to your rooms."

"You should have called for me a lot sooner, you doddering old man. Do you not understand that guests must not be kept waiting at the foot of staircases while you chatter away like a nagging wife?"

The group turned as one to see a woman walk up to them. Warm grayish brown locks confined beneath an old-fashioned lace cap, maternally round figure dressed in black and sparkling, startling green eyes looked at them one by one as she castigated good-naturedly the grim-looking butler.

"A nagging wife is more your image than mine Mrs. Grims."

"A ponderous windbag is yours Mr. Cheery. I am Grims, the housekeeper. Welcome to Winterlance."

"Hello Mrs. Grims."

The green eyes widened at the sound of Soul's voice and tears soon flowed from them. Her trembling hands reached out eagerly towards his face, touching reverently his cheeks and the slope of his shoulders.

"Young Master Soul…you came back…you're finally home."

Soul grasped the weathered hands tenderly and kissed one rosy cheek. He gave her a small smile though his eyes spoke of a sadness he could not conceal fully.

"I came back to do a task, Mrs. Grims."

"A task? That is all? But I thought--!"

"That is enough Mrs. Grims. As you pointed out our guest needs time to freshen up and get ready for dinner with The Madam."

"We can talk once more, when things settle, you hear me child?"

"As you wish Mrs. Grims."

"If you would follow me, this way to your rooms, please."

"I shall see you at dinner, honored guests."

With a final bow the old man turned away. Soul looked back at him one more time before following docilely the mothering figure walking ahead of him.

"Mrs. Grims?"

"Yes, Young Master?"

"Who is this Madam Cheery kept saying?"

"Who? Why, young master, have you forgotten her already? The Evans family dowager matriarch is here."

Soul froze when he realized who exactly the housekeeper meant. His lips parted but no sound came until his friends turned to look at back at him and wonder at his apparent distress. Kid touched his shoulder and shook him slightly.

"Soul? What's the matter? Who is this madam you speak of?"

"Prudence Evans." Soul mumbled almost incoherently as he braced himself against the supportive strength of a nearby wall.

"Who is she?"

Soul cleared his throat and managed a strangled croak, so unlike his usual smooth tones. "My grandmother."

* * *

The room was paneled in smooth wood and the walls covered in damask silk. More damask flowed from the drapes that framed each side of the tall windows. Burgundy themes dominated the room and though flowers once more perfumed the huge space, there remained a forbidding air--a presence of oppressive authority lingered strongly.

"So you have brought back the prodigal child back home."

The voice was soft, genteel and deceptively frail-sounding but there was a steel core in each word that escapes thin, meticulously tinted rose lips. Hair the color of ashen gold was tied back into an elegant chignon, kept in place by an obviously expensive pearl and gold comb. The slight figure was clad in elegant muted silk and priceless French lace. Pearls dripped from her lobes and draped in double rows around her neck. Her small hands hidden from sight by lace gloves. Her face, though obviously not young still seemed youthful, flawless and perfect with her straight nose, high cheek bones, arched brows and her deep mahogany eyes.

"Yes Mother. Though he isn't entirely here to come back, you see. He had to be ordered back…he was most reluctant." Creed stared at the scene outside the windows, one he has seen a thousand times but never from the sanctity of this room. No, he has, until recently, never been allowed to set even a foot inside its hallowed walls. This was the domain of her mother and thus was terra incognita to any male descendant of the Evans not directly in line to inherit the main family.

"Reluctant? Why is that?"

"He doesn't really want to go back here."

"What he wants no longer matters. You should've been more assertive." The censure was obvious, even when there passed no such words from her lips.

"He was not an easy man to order around Mother."

"Is that so? No Evans is easy to control. We shall see soon enough if he was worth having to be dragged back here."

"And if he is?'

"If he is then all the more reason to tell him straight out that his gallivanting days are over. He has a name to live up to."

"He isn't like every other Evans."

"Oh? I do believe he is exactly what an Evans should be. Didn't you say he brought people with him?"

"Yes, the son of the Reaper and a few other operatives, I suppose."

"Hm. If they are useful, we shall keep them around. If not, they can crawl back to that abyss they came from."

"Mother, I feel I must warn you, he isn't like Wes or any other child of the Evans clan."

"I know what he is. I know very well, exactly what kind he is. Have you forgotten I have a brother just like him? I know better than anyone how to deal with young Soul."

"I hope you're right."

"For your sake, I hope so too." Her voice became soft and satisfied sounding as she turned to the other occupant of the room who has thus remained silent during the exchanges between mother and son. "It would not do to have such an unappealing candidate, isn't that right Victoria?"

A beautiful, lilting voice spoke from behind a Queen Anne winged back chair.

"Madam is wise as always. I trust that madam would not recommend to me an unworthy fiance."


	26. Insults, Interviews and Intuitions

Authors Note: Standard Disclaimer applies. I apologize for the delay. The story seems to have hit a snag in my mental map. But i think I am getting it fixed--sort of. I will be bringing Maka back next time and I hope you like this part as well. Thank you for those that found Grandma Prudence such an interesting character. She is fun to write. Wish me luck --kuroren23

* * *

SOUL

**_(FLASHBACK, in the car a few hours before they arrived...)  
_**

_"What do you plan on accomplishing here?" Kid asked quietly. The young Reaper looked at his face intently and waited for his reply. He sighed, looking at the view outside._

_"Shouldn't you have asked me that before you agreed to come to this sojourn?" he muttered despondently._

_"Father asked me to come since he thinks I have the best chances of controlling that impetuous nature of you and Black Star's natural tendency to cause chaos."_

_Soul had to smile at the chagrined expression on the young Death God's face at the notion of playing nursemaid to two of the most notorious names in Death City. His humor however was short lived._

_"He knows how I feel about this mission. If it weren't for the fact that Spirit was insistent and made a valid point, which is a miracle, I wouldn't have come. They can strip me of my titles of privileges for all I care. Maka needed me. I shouldn't have to be gallivanting around here attending to my family's tantrums."_

_"Maka would have wanted you to deal with it." Murmured softly._

_Soul snorted. "Why else would I have come here?"_

_"Point taken. Best that we deal with this as fast as we can. I do not like being so far away from Death City and I have never been comfortable around normal people." Kid gave a delicate shudder and Soul couldn't resist an amused chuckle._

_"Normal people scare you huh?"_

_"You have no idea. Now, enough chit-chat. Tell me the situation so that we can formulate the most effective counter-measure to your current dilemma."_

_The sound of someone clearing their throat gave them pause. They turned, as one, looking for the culprit when they saw Black Star hanging upside down from outside the sun roof. They nearly fell down with shock when they realized that his mouth was stuffed with what looked like half a dozen loaves of bread._

_"Black Star! What the--! Where the hell did you get that you selfish pig?!!" Kid shrieked._

_"They were just lying around." Black Star answered blithely._

_"Define lying around." Soul deadpanned, amusement coloring his voice for the first time in hours._

_Black Star blinked before grinning. "Well, it was there and no one said I couldn't have it."_

_Kid was livid. He leveled a righteous finger straight into Black Star's nose. "How could they. They weren't around to tell you otherwise you wise cracking robber-pig!"_

_"Hey! Don't call me that!"_

_Soul sighed in exasperation before grabbing a fistful of Black Star's shirt to haul him inside. "Never mind that, now, will you just come inside before someone suddenly looks out and sees you?"_

_"Dang if any one would. Your family sure could afford a lot of cars man. How come you never told us you were loaded man?" Black Star twisted to straighten his clothes and missed the way Soul's eyes darkened at the comment._

_"That would be because I didn't want anyone to think I was."he retorted in a voice devoid of feeling. The unnatural softness of his tone made Black Star look at him intently._

_"But they're your family right? You are an Evans."_

_"No. I am Soul Eater. I am not an Evans. Big difference. I'm not one of them. Not anymore. Now unless you want to go on an extended discussion on how that happened, I suggest you drop it man."_

_"Hmp. Fine. Yo, Kid, now what are we doing here again?"_

_Kid rolled his eyes and considered banging his head against the windows. "Gods, you are an incurable moron sometimes. Tell me again why I trusted you with my life?"_

_Black Star gave him a cheeky grin and wink. "Because I am a God! I am the greatest! I am--!" Kid and Soul jumped their hyperactive friend and tried to smother the ensuing noise as the rest of their group only looked on in amusement. Tsubaki's chagrined blush was not lost to the Thompson twins who decided to engage her attentions and proceeded to ignore the rest of their male companions._

_"Shhhh!!!!!! You are also a clueless bastard that needs a lesson on how to be a real ninja!" Kid shrieked.  
_

_"Hey! I am a real ninja! No one imagined me okay!"_

_"Do you have even the smallest once of brain cell inside that head of yours or do you just have a reel there that supplies answers to basic questions?" Soul asked suddenly, the wicked glint in his eyes caused Black Star to pause._

_"Huh?"_

_"Will you two just quit it?!" Kid retorted in exasperation. "Now, let's get down to the game plan. Soul what is the situation here. I think its time you tell us what's going on."_

_Soul gave a sigh before he got down and explained the situation as best and as briefly as he could manage._

_"My brother, parents and aunt has gone missing for a few weeks. No one has received any kind of ransom or threat. There have been no demands from potential kidnappers and they were not presumed lost somewhere because they vanished while they were in one of the estates we owned. Uncle Creed tracked me down because the Family has been worried that someone is holding them up to destabilize us."_

_"Isn't there anyone who could take the helm if they are so concerned over leadership? That is the immediate fear isn't it?" Liz injected into the conversation, making the three guys jump. Soul rubbed the back of his neck wearily._

_"Yeah. But the problem is that with no demand and no ransom, no one knows for sure what happened. It could mean anything from the fact that they got delayed somewhere or—"_

_"Or they chose to keep away." Patty jumped in with a squeal and a smile. Kid patted her on the head before telling her to calm down. Liz smiled at her sister and kept her quiet. Soul shook his head._

_"Or someone is keeping them stashed away for some other scheme. My parents are the ones controlling the main branch of the family and Wes, my brother is the heir."_

_"How about your aunt?" Tsubaki inquired._

_"Uncle Creed's wife. She also came from an equally powerful family. But since my uncle is the head only of the branch family, he can't make a move for much longer. He is only assuming the reins until someone else can take his place."_

_"If you mean that only someone from the main branch—that means they sought you out because you're the only remaining member of the main family. They want you to assume leadership." Tsubaki pointed out softly. Coming from a family whose structure is almost the same as his, she was the one who could best piece together the extent of his situation._

_"Right you are. Why else do you think I resisted coming here?" He sighed in resignation. He rubbed a hand across his face, aggravated at the situation. "I don't want any of this politicking and conspiracies around me."_

_"But what if that is the plan?" Black Star countered._

_"Don't you think maybe they wanted a weapon around?" Kid added, picking up what their ninja friend left out. "What if the plan was to get to you, all along?"_

_Soul shook his head. "That's a long shot even for them. No one outside my immediate family knows about me. No one could possibly know that there is a weapon in the Evans family. The line died out a long time ago."_

_"Except for you." Kid pointed out._

_"Yeah, but then again, few people knows that."_

_"I wouldn't be too sure of that if I were you."_

_- END FLASHBACK  
_

**_

* * *

PRESENT  
_**

Soul tried to resist the foreboding feeling that was left in the car after their unfinished conversation. The certainty however in Kid's words made him wonder if perhaps there was something to be said for Black Star's impromptu conspiracy theory.

He shook his head and tried to clear his mind of thoughts that only confused and aggravated him more. The thought of seeing his grandmother was not something he was looking forward to. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes before opening them, looking for anything to distract him when he finally noticed his surroundings.

The room they gave him was not his. Though the furnishings and color schemes that prevailed upon the spacious suite bore echoes of his previous quarters, the reality was that it wasn't. He could easily imagine himself preferring a room bearing some semblance to this room—with its dark, heavy furniture, deep burgundy and wine tones in the draperies and wallpaper. Indeed his room in Death City bore traces of the style that prevailed upon the Winterlance décor but years of living and sharing space with his Meister have certainly left their mark where his tastes are concerned. He would've hated to stay in a room like this for any extended period of time. The space felt cramped—oppressively organized and though expensively appointed, there was emptiness within that could not be completely disguised by the number of things set inside it.

"It changed…"

"Nothing stays forever but as long as it is humanly possible, this place would remain just as it always has been."

"I would have thought you'd be the kind to resist changes until the bitter end."

"Things are meant to change. The wise ones always understood that in life, changes are, for the most part, inevitable."

It took a lot of effort not to give away even the barest of reactions. The voice was soft, calm and always marked with generations of wealth, breeding and gentility but then, as now, he felt no real affection in the voice of the woman that now shared if not commanded, his temporary domicile. He waited for the familiar sense of guilt that accompanied the realization and felt surprise when none came.

"As far as I can recall, you never liked having things go out of line Grandma."

"Grandmother."she automatically corrected. She moved towards the bureau and smoothed a hand across the smooth grain of satinwood. "Whenever we allow ourselves to behave in the worst possible taste, then by all means it must be resisted, but only a fool questions and fights a losing battle. And no Evans is a fool."

"Or least not for very long, isn't that your belief Grandma?"

Prudence leveled a look at his deliberate and willful use of the more familiar term. "You're tongue has become unattractively sharp young man. It is unseemly for someone of your station to speak so impertinently."

"I thought this interview would not take place until after you feed me, at the very least. Or has the hospitality of the great Evans house suffered enough that you're planning to grill me in front of my friends?" Soul raised an inquiring eyebrow at the pinched look that came to his grandmother's face.

"I am not particularly well-versed in your common vernacular young man but I do not plan to do anything of the kind. This is merely a chat, a chance to exchange pleasantries while we wait for dinner."

"I could hardly call this pleasant, Grandma."

"Well to each his own I always believe. Please do me the favor of reminding your companions that we dress for dinner here in the country. I am not sure how they usually behave in the city but we like to keep traditions here at home." She gave him a small smile as she touched a hand to the delicate blooms that were placed in his room. "Surely, you have not forgotten that much about the lessons in courtesy you have learned as a child?"

The rebuke was subtle and expertly delivered. And all the more potent for the derisive smile that seemed to lie just behind the older woman's calm visage. The disapproval was all at once startlingly familiar and expected.

Soul waited for the usual sense of shame to wash over him but there was just the startling absence of any feeling of distress. He found the lack refreshingly liberating. He gave his grandmother a wicked grin as he sat in one of the chairs with languid grace. He winked at her rakishly before inclining his head towards the view outside.

"You know what Grandma, you're right. Things here couldn't have changed that much if you're still ruling this house like it's your personal fiefdom."

"I recall telling you're father that he should've taught you lessons on manners the same way they drilled it into Wesley. At least your brother knew how to conduct himself in the most appropriate of manners."

"Ah well, I've never been one to conform. After all, the only thing we did agree on was the fact that I wasn't Evans Main Family material. You were more than willing to consign me to the ends of the earth so long as that keeps everyone from guessing what really happened to the youngest Evans son."

For the first time since their little impromptu meeting began he detected a faint air of discomfort emanating from his guest.

"Your case was special, though not unheard of. Having Lawe keep you was the best option for everyone. He would've understood you far better than any one of us here ever could. He could give you what we cannot."

Or would not. I am not here to ask your motivations for what you have done Grandma. I came here to do a job."

"Indeed, you are here to take over--!"

"Ah! Hold your horses right there Grandma. I ain't here out of some belated sense of filial duty or anything crazy like that. I am not planning to take over anything."

"Oh? And why are you here then?"

"Uncle Creed made a deal with my boss. This is an assignment. We would discover who has abducted Wes and the others and then we would get them back. Once they have safely returned here, my friends and I will go back to Death City."

"Am I to understand that you came here to do a job and nothing more?"

"Something like that. I hope you don't mind Grandma. And oh Grandma, you better be sure you can afford us because after this is done and over with, I will collect a whole slew of bills from you guys."

* * *

Soul wonders if he should check for burn marks from the intense way his grandmother glared at him. He gave a dry chuckle when a voice spoke somewhere behind him.

"Hey man, anyone told you before your grandma is scary?"

Black Star dropped into the room from his perch outside the sill, shaking his head and rubbing his arms as he gave a believable shiver. "Brrr--! What a cold, cold one that is. Sure scared me some."

"Yeah, the Evans family matriarch is one holy terror. Why do you think everyone jumped to get me as soon as she made it known that I was needed. I think everyone would've sacrificed lambs to the slaughter if it meant appeasing that old lady."

"I doubt if there are enough sacrificial lambs to do the job." Kid lounged at the open doorway with a pensive look on his face. "If she gets you into too much trouble I might ask father to bump her on the top of his list. She's such a tartar."

The comment caused an immediate silence to grip the trio before they all burst into laughter. Wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes Soul slapped a hand against the Reaper's shoulder.

"Oh man! Thanks for reminding me why having a Reaper for a friend is worth while."

Black Star gave a nervous laugh, "Hey Kid…just don't get any ideas about me alright?"

"Annoy me enough and I might just get some. So now what?"

"I think its time we do some investigating while we're here. We stay the night and after that Black Star can check the people that were there the night they vanished. I'll work on the corporate honchos."

"Fine, I need to check with Azusa back in Death City for her analysis."

"Done." Black Star nodded in agreement.

"Now what about tonight?" Kid asked.

Soul gave a wicked grin as he slung an arm around Black Star's shoulder, ignoring the suspicious look that Kid was leveling his way.

"Tonight? I think it's time Grandma meets Black Star."

". Evil."


	27. Dining a la Evans

Authors Note: Standard Disclaimers and all that. Soul Eater is still not mine--well except for the demented ones I created. Well, this is one of the most fun things I've ever written. Not to worry but the dinner scene will have a part two I think. I just want to say thank you to those that continually support and read what I have written here. It takes time--sometimes days and sometimes just hours--to get things right. Its like falling in love--or something else mushy like that. Please review! I appreciate really, really long ones. --kuroren.

* * *

**DEATH CITY**

_Spirit's Apartment_

Maka could feel the intensely curious stare emanating from her two companions. She could certainly account for the fact that for the last two days they have been staring at her an average of three times in the span of a minute.

_Must be some kind of record…do I happen to have a history of violence or insanity attacks?Or do they expect me to spring some bizarre surprise on them? _She resisted the urge to sigh._ Fat chance of that happening when I can't even remember what I used to be…_

The thought was a sobering one and it made their curiosity fade from her mind. She shook her head and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand. Last night, on her behest, Blair-chan had gathered all her old photo albums and letters as well as the odd journal or diary or two from the apartment they said was hers. When she expressed the idea that she should stay there, the man they said was her Father came unhinged, bawling his eyes out like some irate toddler, clinging to her leg like a limpet. For some reason the entire episode made her hand itch for a thick hard-bound book to slam on his vulnerable, stubborn blubbering head.

_Am I naturally violent or is it just with him? Why do I feel like I know exactly how to use a book as a weapon towards annoying males? Do I hate men? And why am I so certain this man was a pervert in some ways I don't want to know?_

Chalking up her reaction to stress and the heretofore aggravation caused by her affliction, she was puzzled by the snickers that Blair-chan was trying desperately to suppress. Rolling her eyes at the entire episode and the idea that a witchy cat was finding her amusing, she plunged right back into her latest activity.

_Right. Maybe God is telling me that I am meant as a softy, mobile cat toy. Even if said cat can apparently transform into a skimpily clad human with cat ears. And why the heck isn't anyone reacting to that? Do cats normally transform into humans around here? What do dogs do then? Turn into horses?_

_Argh! _The entire thing is making her head ache. When her hands brushed against the warmth of a teacup, she quickly raised the porcelain to her lips and gulped the contents. The soothing sensation brought by the brew settled her nerves and she managed to get her perspective back.

_There's no point in dwelling on things that makes no sense at the moment. Maybe everything else would make sense after I remember who and what I am. Maybe these things are normal for the normal me._

And with that, she turned back to the stack of albums facing her. She picked up a dark leather covered photo album and wished just this once, that a spark of memory would come to her. She could recall her mother, Marie-sensei, the Thompson twins and even Tsubaki-chan as well other female classmates from Shibusen but for some reason she couldn't put together a clear picture of what Shibusen is, as a school, and why she lives in a place called Death City.

Somewhere…something in here is bound to tell me who I am…I just need to be patient…I need to be focused and to not let my mind be distracted by—

"Blair-chan?"

"Yes Maka-chan? Do you need something?"

"Ah-er, yes tea…but before that—Blair-chan, who is this?"

* * *

**WINTERLANCE**

The main dining hall. Dubbed by family members and servants alike as the Great Hall of Mirrors, it was Prudence Evan's proudest showpiece. It was a showroom filled with the knickknacks and totems of wealth that she felt a guest in the Evans home should be made aware of. Other than the great room where the twin grand stair case lead to, this room fairly decreed the superiority and majesty of the name she has cared for and nurtured for years. Here, awe was the prevailing emotion she wished to dominate.

Prudence stood at the head of the long table and survey with a critical eye the silent waltz of servants working earnestly and efficiently to create the atmosphere of flawless service she expected every night.

"How is dinner coming along Cheery?"

The butler bowed towards the Evans family matriarch deferentially.

"Dinner will proceed as scheduled Madam."

She ran the tips of her fingers across the linen tablecloth to smooth out an infinitesimal crease and continued her questioning.

"The menu?"

Cheery nodded once more before consulting a clipboard he whipped out of nowhere. He looked towards the housekeeper, Mrs. Grims, who nodded in return.

"The dishes you approved has been prepared and awaiting the bell."

"The dinner service?" Prudence Evans raised a hand towards the huge display cabinets that house the Evans Family collection of rare and priceless china. This time it was Mrs. Grims who replied to her inquiry.

"We have laid out the blue rose china, the cardinal-patterned silver and the crystals you have specified Madam. The linen napkins embroidered with damask roses will be used as per your orders."

"Good. I want to have some sterling roses from the hothouses brought in as a centerpiece."

"Yes Madam." The housekeeper signaled one of the passing maids and held a quiet conference to carry out Madam's newest orders. Prudence started walking towards the twin doors that led out into main hall.

"Coffee and desserts will be taken in the Rose Room."

"Yes, Madam."

Prudence cast a final sweeping glance around the room before walking past the door, on her heels was the ever present butler.

"When that's done have someone come and fetch me for dinner. I shall be in my room."

"As Madam wishes." The butler bowed low. He was about to turn back straight to kitchen to observe the preparations when he heard his mistress call out once more.

"And Cheery?"

"Yes Madam?" he inquired politely. Had he not been trained properly, he would've allowed himself to flinch at the barely concealed disapproval in his mistress' face.

"See to it that my grandson's guests are attired appropriately. Dinner is sacrosanct in this house. I would not have them ruining it for me and my guest."

"I shall attend to it personally Madam."

"See that you do."

The butler allowed himself the smallest of sighs and wondered if the tension in his spine would fade away in time before he had to serve dinner. He wonders too if there was anything strong enough to drink in the wine cellar to drown out the lasting image of Prudence Evan's calculating smile. Some things really were not meant for human eyes to see. Cheery was profoundly grateful he forget to put on his glasses.

* * *

**DEATH CITY**

The witchy cat-turned human blinked at the young woman at her side. Her bright purple eyes followed the line of the young lady's hand until her eyes lighted on a finger pointing to a particular face within a particular photograph.

"Ah! That's Soul-kun, Maka-chan."

"Do I know him?"

"Know him? Soul-kun is Maka-chan's former partner."

"Former?"

"Hai! Soul-kun is now Death Scythe. He is now the weapon of Reaper-sama."

"Reaper?!!!"

"Hai! Don't you know, Maka-chan is a very good, very famous Meister and Soul-kun was your partner in Shibusen."

"Wait--! Shibusen is a school for Meisters and weapons?"

"That's right."

"But what is a Meister and how can a person be a weapon? You mean he's good with weapons—something like that?"

"Eh? Oh no no! Maka-chan, Soul-kun becomes a weapon. He is a scythe-weapon. Just like you father Spirit-kun."

"WHAT!!!! But-but-but that's impossible! Things like that can't happen!"

"Maka-chan what are you saying? This is Death City…a place ruled by the Death God himself."

"Does that mean we're dead? Am I dead? Is this heaven or hell?"

"Oh no! Nothing like that! We're not dead! We are all alive…oh dear, Blair-chan can't explain this properly at all. Maybe we could ask Professor Stein ne?"

Maka nodded and she sat back wearily, rubbing a hand across her forehead. She opened her eyes and stared once more at the photograph that caused her even more turmoil.

"Yes…maybe we should visit the Professor.'

"Maka-chan? Are you alright?"

"It's just that…Blair-chan he looks…familiar but I don't know why."

"Well, that's because he was your partner and roommate for years."

"Is that so…? But when did we meet last? And why haven't I seen him around here? Did we end our friendship when he became someone else's er—weapon?"

"M-maka-chan, what are you saying? You saw Soul-kun not three days ago."

"I did? But that's impossible. I don't think I've seen this boy during those days."

"This boy? Maka-chan…what are you saying? Of course you wouldn't see this boy, Soul-kun has grown up now."

"Really? But I haven't seen anyone like that at all."

"Y-you haven't!!?"

"Yes—huh? H-hey! Blair-chan!"

"Oh pumpkins and fishsticks! We need to see the professor right now!!!"

"The professor?! Why? Blair-chan wait! Where are we going?! Blair-chan!"

* * *

**WINTERLANCE, Soul's room  
**

After discussing their plans for the rest of their stay in the city, Kid and Black Star retreated to their rooms to prepare for dinner. Soul reminded them that while they remained at Winterlance it would do to gain the household's confidence by appearing like they are following all their unwritten rules. It would make the task of investigating the kidnapping a lot easier of they could access the grounds without arousing suspicion.

A few more reminders and the events of the night would be set. Agreeing to meet five minutes before the dinner bell sounds, they parted ways at Soul's door. Soul emerged from his bath smelling faintly of winter and sandalwood, rubbing his hair vigorously and wincing as water dripped from his naked skin straight into the plush Persian carpet.

_Oh Grandma's gonna love that. On the other hand her priceless antiques would benefit from a through soaking every once in a while._

He stood there for a moment, debating whether to get something to mop up the growing puddle or ignore it completely when he saw the clothes he chose for the evening carefully laid out on his bed. The black silk shirt, red tie and black Italian suit as well as polished wingtips were all there, set out so that he need only put them on. Soul realized with chagrin that he was pleasantly surprised. It has been many years—almost a lifetime ago—when servants did the most casual of chores for him. Since leaving home he has learned to deal with his own needs. Living with an efficient and fiercely independent partner has taught him that if he wants something done, he should do it himself.

He was even more surprised when he found himself already expertly mopping up the bath water with one of the man chamois cloths he drew out of the cabinet beneath the sink. The action was a familiar one, done hundreds of time since he has learned what it meant to live with a neat-freak for a roommate. He grinned at the thought and allowed himself a moment or two to wonder at what his erstwhile partner could be doing…wishing with all his heart that he was right there with her as he stared at the night-lit view outside.

_Wait for me…I'll get back home as soon as I can so just hold on…_

**_

* * *

_Death City**

_STEIN'S LABORATORY_

**MAKA POV**

_The man who opened the door did not look like anything I would consult on the issue of my sanity or lack thereof. The man did not actually look sane, sober or even normal considering that his entire frame seemed littered with scars, stitching—both flesh and cloth—and a huge screw protruding from the side of his head which he would absently turn whenever the mood strikes him._

_No, it was not a call I was really happy to make. But what with Blair dragging me from my father's apartment to this deserted stretch of graveyard, I wasn't in the proper frame of mind to even formulate an argument on why THIS had BAD IDEA written all over it._

_Furtively I stole a glance at the photograph clasped in my right fist. I wanted to make sure that in our mad I hadn't damaged it beyond repair. Some part of me knew that I would hate to lose this photograph though I have no idea why. I was determined to find out who that boy was. I had to know who he was. I reminded myself to keep my hold on the photograph light, lest I crush it in a fit of nerves._

_My left already sought out the familiar shape of the pendant hidden beneath my shirt. No matter what time of day, since my accident and perhaps even before that, my hand would stray towards the cool feel of my pendant, my fears curiously soothed by the mere presence of it._

_I took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves into some semblance of peace. No matter what happens, I would regain what I have lost. And if the quickest way was through the help of a strange man who had graves on his lawn, then I would just have to grin and bear it. If worse comes to worst, I know I'll have a convenient location to bury myself in._

* * *

Stein looked at his night-time callers with his trade mark bored and bland look. Reaching into a breast pocket for the inevitable cigarette and matches, he lighted one and took a long drag before asking around the lit cancer-stick.

"So…to what do I owe the pleasure this time around Blair-chan, Maka-chan?" he made a show of glancing, pretending to stare, thumping and talking to his battered wrist watch. "It's kinda late isn't it?"

"I know, and I am awfully sorry Professor Stein but Blair-chan dragged me here--!" Maka tried to pry herself away from the tight grasp of the cat-woman but instead she found herself smothered into a very generous bosom. "Blair-chan!! B-blair-chan I can't breathe!"

Blair chan blushed prettily when she felt the desperate push against her chest and she immediately released the flustered Meister before turning once more towards the yawning patchwork man said to be the strongest and smartest in all of Shibusen.

"Professor we have a big problem! BIG PROBLEM!!!!"

"Calm down, kitty. I'm not deaf."

"But its an emergency! You have to know about this!"

"Hai. Hai. Now, stop shouting before you wake up half my dead neighbors."

"Stein? Who is it?"

"A little cat and a little lost girl. Don't worry about it."

"Why, it's Blair-chan and Maka-chan. Is there anything wrong?"

"We came to talk to Professor. Something's happening to Maka-chan."

"Maka-chan? Then why don't you two come inside and we can talk about it like civilized people. Really Stein, making them wait out in the cold like that!"

"Hai . Hai. "

Once ensconced inside the warmth and clutter of the lab, and fortified with warm cups of tea and milk, in Blair's case—the foursome settled down to begin their discussion in earnest.

* * *

**WINTERLANCE**

**_SOUL POV_**

_I can say without the slightest bit of doubt that dinner that night was a feast for the senses. My senses at that. It was a night to remember and one I am certain would remain in the memory of every living being present on that fateful date.  
_

_Dinner began promptly at the sound of the bell. Grandma did her grand promenade dressed in her customary champagne-colored lace and silk gown. Cut along the lines favored during Edwardian times with its high collar, lace cuffs and elaborate beading, the dress was missing only a bustle and long train to make it authentic. Her hair, as custom, was swept up into a simple, dignified chignon that did nothing to downplay the priceless pearl and diamond combs meant to confine it._

_She sat at the head of the table and just to up the ante, I ignored her pointed look at the chair beside her and chose to sit at the opposite end of the table. Since she insisted we use the grand dining room, dinner intended for less than ten people was set incongruously on a table meant to seat as many as forty. It brought a reluctant smile to my face when I realized that which such arrangements, there were visible spaces between diners and she would have to strain her genteel voice to facilitate dinner conversation._

_I remained standing for a minute longer than absolutely necessary until I noticed that we have reached the first of many impasses for the night. I was her honored guest. To my grandmother's mind, that meant she could not sit until I have taken mine. Call me perverse, but I relished seeming the usually unflappable Evans matriarch's lips purse in temper as I stretched the minutes between us. It pursed even more when she noticed that Uncle Creed was a bit late coming in._

"Romulus. It would not do to set a bad example to our guests. You are late."

"My apologies Madam. I have lost track of time. It would not happen again."

"See that it doesn't."

"Good evening Uncle Creed."

"Good evening Soul. What ever are you doing there?"

"I want to sit here. Grandma won't mind, right?"

"Please take your seat Soul. Dinner is to be served."

"Not yet Grandma."

"I told the staff that dinner would commence at 7. It is already seven. We must always be punctual and grateful for the food we receive dear child. It would be blasphemy otherwise."

"I think dinner would be a bit delayed today."

"Oh and why is that?

"Oh something tells me the dinner service won't run as smoothly as it usually does."

"Nonsense. The Evans family prides itself on the quality of service provided to those that come to our home. I have checked every and—who is that?"

The scandalized look that flashed in my grandmother's eyes was just the start. I took a deep breath and reined in the need to laugh as I made the first introductions of the night.

* * *

The double doors opened with a bang startling everyone in the dining room and causing one maid to drop a set of glasses that were fortunately caught with lightning fast reflexes before they ever hit the floor. Bowing in apology, as always, Tsubaki turned back to reprimand her exuberant Meister when she noticed that he was no longer by the doorway.

"I am here! I am the greatest! I am stronger than God! I am Black Star!"

"Yo, Black Star!"

"Soul! My young friend! Where is the feast you promised me! A god like me must have sustenance--!"

"Soul –kun! I am terribly sorry."

"No worries Tsubaki-san. It's fine. Come and meet the Evans."

Soul watched the wariness in his family's gaze as they took in Black Star. Though they gave a polite bow and murmured the customary pleasantries offered when one is introduced, both their eyes never strayed from Black Star's figure.

"I apologize for the ruckus he caused, he is a little exuberant—"

'Tsubaki!!! One does not apologize for one's greatness! They are privileged to see me! I am the Great Black Star!"

"Dear god is he quite sane?" Creed muttered frantically as he clutched at Soul's arm. Soul snorted and continued to watch the scandalized look on his grandmother's visage morph into outright panic when Black Star wandered towards the serving stations and very casually devoured half of the intended entrees. For a moment Soul was certain his grandmother was fighting the urge to faint or scream her head off when her eyes fell on a white clad figure staring intently at the dinner table.

"Is that…another of your guests Soul?"

"Grandma, Uncle Creed, meet Death the Kid. He is the son of my boss, the Reaper himself."

"Reaper?"

"Yes Mother. The Reaper. What did you say his name was?"

"Yo, Kid!"

"Soul, child, really. There is no need to shout. I am certain heard you."

"No need to add mister Grandma. Just call him Kid. Works better that way."

"If you say so. However, what in the world is he doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Would I ask if it was?"

"Then let's ask him shall we?" and with that Soul reached out a hand and tweaked a crystal water goblet. Immediately the laser sights of the Reaper's son was on him. Kid came up unerringly to his location and muttering incessantly under his breath sought to straighten out the placement of tableware.

"Yo, Kid. Come and meet the Evans."

"Good evening Soul. Good evening to you a well Creed Evans."

Creed visibly paled but mustered his courage and performed the necessary introductions as Soul simply looked on.

"This is the Evans family matriarch. Prudence Veronique Evans. She is my mother."

Prudence Evans extended a hand and was surprised when Kid bowed over it politely. "Madam. I am the Reaper's son, Death the Kid. I would like to assure you that we would look into the situation your family is facing as soon as we have gathered all the necessary information."

"Thank you."

"However, would you mind if I ask you something?"

The two older Evan's blinked back at the intensity of those piercing golden eyes. Soul, having an inkling on where the conversation was going simply stayed put and watched as his family eyes warily the black hared Death God.

"Certainly. What is it that you desire?"

Kid took a deep breath before leveling a grim look at his hosts. He opened his lips and muttered, "Can I straighten the table arrangement? Some of the flatware's singularly in a messy position and I can not bear to dine if—what is that maid doing! I just straightened that! Hey!"

Soul bit back a laugh and proceeded with another introduction. This time the introductions were of a far simpler nature. The Thompson twins were dressed in matching black dresses, and as per Kid's penchant, it was matched right down to accessory and shoes.

"These are the Thompson twins, Liz and Patty."

"Pleasure, ladies." This time Creed's smile was a little more genuine. His grandmother, predictably, took a skeptical looks at the twins appearance before giving them a perfunctory bow. Her disdain, however, was lost to the two, much to Soul's relief.

"Thank you for your hospitality Mrs. Evans. If you have any questions, feel free to ask us."

"Thank you. I am much obliged…dear lord what is he doing now?!" his grandmother nearly squawked. Liz glanced at the source of her hostess' distress and gave a small laugh, explaining as she went closer to the source.

"He is measuring the stems of the rose bushes. He doesn't tolerate any lack of symmetry."

"Symmetry?"

"Something like that." Soul replied with a smile.

Prudence blinked. She blinked some more when the twins whipped out measuring tapes and on their master's behest promptly measured the distance of each item on the table (including the stems of the cut roses) down to the smallest millimeter. Black Star raided the remaining serving dishes and with that, the indomitable matriacrch of the Evans, the feared dowager queen of Winterlance fainted dead away. Needless to say, dinner was late.


	28. Stops and Starts

Authors Note: Soul Eater is not mine and though I wish it was--well fate thought otherwise. I havent written in a while and its simply because I refuse to write something unless i know there's something that might follow it. Writer's block can be such a pain--hopefully I can kick it long enough to add a few more chapters. Please tell me what you think--kuroren.

* * *

**MAKA**

She sat on a sofa trying not to twitch. Surely the patchwork quilt of a professor Blair dragged her to own a house that sung the ode to a mélange of eccentric and eclectic stitching. Everything in it was held together with a lot of prayer and innumerable stitches, not to mention its _piece d 'résistance_—a huge screw that pierced through the house, much like its much smaller counterpart pierced through the head of its owner.

_I must be out of my mind…that, or this is really some bizarre dream. If it was so, I sure want to wake up right about now._

She dragged her eyes from its inspection (READ: annoyance) of the topsy-turvy home and tried mightily to concentrate on the man who is supposed to help her. She allowed herself the smallest luxury of doubt before she pushed it resolutely out of her mind. She needed answers and apparently only this man could give it to her. She has no right to question her sanity or her choice of savior.

_If what they say about beggars not being choosy—what right does a person with spotty memory have? I might be willing to pass time with cats and mad scientists if it would make me whole again._

The thought was a sobering one. She had no choice. That, in essence, was something she should make every effort to accept. Somewhere, some time ago, somewhere inside the murky muddled abyss of her mind her past self trusted this man. The _**real**_ Maka Albarn believed in the genius that resides within this patchwork quilt of a human. She could do no less that to trust and believe in that memory.

"Professor…something happened… I think—I believe that more of my memories are fading…they're all vanishing and I don't know how to stop it…something inside me is…fading…"

* * *

**WINTERLANCE  
**

Dinner was a quiet affair. Or as quiet as it could be after the debacle that occurred after one enthusiastic ninja decided to decimate four of the seven courses intended to be served that night. Sure, it was served at an unprecedented late hour--a full two hours--than when it usually is but given the fact that more than half the dishes were devoured by a bottomless abyss inside a creature pretending to be human and a dinner guest at that, the delay was more than valid. Actually, it's more of a minor miracle that it was managed to be salvaged at all. But that's the Evans household for you. Like the proverbial phoenix, they always rise to the occasion.

The faint clinks of silverware against fine china, the murmur of crystal flutes being filled with the delicate bouquet of expensive vintages seemed eerily loud after the crashing of dishes and screams that echoes only moments before. Soul glanced at the frozen mask of politeness on his grandmother's face as she excused herself under the pretense of attending to some matters and resisted the urge to chortle aloud; fearing that the smallest sound might set her off once more. The tension and awkwardness that painted his Uncle Creed's face didn't help the matter one whit. It was all he could do now to guffaw at the affronted look in his relatives' eyes and the amused twinkle in those of his friends.

"Soul-kun, your grandmother--? Should I apologize once more for Black Star's action? Do you suppose that might ease her—er—displeasure?" Tsubaki whispered beside him, her eyes glancing worriedly between her hosts and her less than groomed master who is currently tied to a chair.

"Don't worry about it Tsubaki. My grandma's usually like that. Displeasure is mother's milk to her believe me, especially without Wes here to defrost some of her iciness."

"Wes?"

"My older brother. He's her favorite or as much as she consider anyone as her favorite. It didn't hurt Wes that he was the intended heir. Never it be said that she doesn't have her priorities straight."

"Your grandmother could give lessons to my honorable Father in that regard."

"Bite your tongue Kid. I like the Reaper just the way he is. If he meets my grandmother I don't know who would end up killing who and I for one would rather not know."

"Point taken. The food is excellent I give you that."

"Well, that's the Evans for you. Frankly I'd rather chew on Maka's experimental dishes right now than eat this fare. Kid, by the way, do you have any idea how she--?"

"I don't know yet Soul. They haven't contacted me yet. If there is any development I'd be the first one to tell you."

"Thank you."

"I understand your concern. I could only apologize and hope that you'll believe me when I say that I swear I will not let this happen again."

"I believe you, man. I'm sure she will too when she remembers things."

"Thank you Soul."

Their quiet conversation ground to a halt with the sound of the Evan's matriarch re-entry into the grand dining room. The occupants rose to their feet (with the exemption of Black Star who was righteously tied to a chair on the far end of the table) to give respect to their host. Soul gave a slight bow, his eyes on his friends when a sharp exhalation of breath caught his attention. Glancing towards Kid, he noticed the dumfounded expression that painted the normally stoic looking Death God. He turned towards his grandmother and noticed that she was no longer alone. Someone accompanied the grand madam. It took him a while to process what caused Kid's apparent speechlessness. The stranger was a young woman. Small boned and delicate looking, with clear alabaster skin and clad in a tasteful deep emerald gown, she was blessed with a full mane of deep auburn hair confined in a low ponytail allowing the brilliant tresses to spill freely down to her hips. When she finally allowed her thick dark red lashes to sweep up, they were treated to the sight of a pair of deep, hypnotizing sapphire blue eyes. She gave the ones gathered to meet her small smile. The action was akin to a punch in the gut for Soul. He gasped and his eyes widened as a sudden, all-too forbidden thought sprang into his head. The stranger that walked into the door of his old home bore more than a passing resemblance to one Maka Albarn.

"Soul, honored guests, I would like to introduce an old friend of the family. This is Victoria Presley. Her family has graciously consented to allow her to be Soul's betrothed."

"Holy sh--!"

"That cannot be good."

* * *

**STEIN**

"More memories are fading?"

It brought him no comfort to watch the fear deepen in her much-too perceptive eyes. The vulnerability in them made him clench his hands into fists thankfully tucked into his coat pockets. This was the child that he helped raise—the child that—in the deepest recesses of his heart—he felt was almost half his own. He could only wonder at the grief this incident brought to his old partner and long-time friend.

"You just went through a really traumatic event Maka-chan…I can understand your fears about your memories—but you've already lost some—what makes this feeling different?"

He watched as the young prodigy that rivaled his own soul perception sit in dejected silence, nursing in her hands a rapidly cooling mug of tea. He knows that without Blair's forceful nature the young woman that even now kept throwing suspicious glances all around her would never have found her way to his home. It was Blair who spoke next and explained the cause for their late night visit.

"She forgot about Soul-kun. She asked when's the last time she saw the him. But it was the boy-Soul she was asking. She said she never met the older Soul-kun." Her gaze flitted between him and the young woman by her side.

"Is that what happened Maka-chan? Did you forget Soul-kun once more?"

He gave a sigh of relief at the sound of that clear voice. He gave his weapon a grateful look. He was about to ask her assistance when he heard his young guest ask a question. He looked at Maka and found to his surprise that the young technician was actually staring at his weapon intensely. Maka trained her eyes towards the woman that spoke. Pale blonde hair and a patch framed the exquisite face that could only be described as kind. Stein wondered at the yearning he saw reflected in the eyes of the confused technician whenever she looked at the older woman but could find no explanation for the feeling. He was both bemused and intrigued when he noted that Maka was inching closer towards Marie, her movements followed by the discerning eyes of everyone in the room.

'Who—who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! My name is Marie. I am a weapon and also a death scythe."

"What's a weapon?"

* * *

In an undisclosed part of what used to be well-tended woodland where a recent attack occurred something was stirring from the deepest part of the consuming gloom. A roiling, undulating mass rose from the obsidian depths like a creature being born from the dark…long streaks like limbs extending until appendages appeared to be tearing itself from the clinging murk. The silent battle waged on…for endless hours it would seem, until finally the dripping shadow freed itself from the clutching hands of darkness. It dragged itself from the sludge of the marsh unto the dead damp grass, gasping as if each breath was costing it a monumental price. But still it struggled mightily forward, ever forward towards a goal only it could see.

It was already the dawn of another day when the figure managed to stay upright, tiny digit digging into the yielding trunk of a long dead tree. Fingers trembling, it held on, determined as ever to stand on wobbling wieldy legs. Harsh panting sounds came from its open lips, air sucked into its lungs with greedy haste as it struggled to gain control of its own body—forcing every sinew and muscle to acquiesce to its master's whim. When next the pale thin lips parted it was to speak, its voice scratchy and reedy as it wheezed:

"Shibusen…she's in Shibusen…"


	29. Lost and Found

Authors Note: SOUL EATER isn't mine. We have established that. Standard disclaimer and all that balderdash. I know I haven't written a word since my computer was purged by a vindictive virus, robbing me of every single scrap of draft and story i ever wrote for the last three years. It is enough to make one swear off writing and believe in fate. But I don't think its fair to those that took time to read this story to leave them hanging. It is to them that I owe this new chapter. I humbly ask forgiveness for the delay. I am slowly building back my belief that I have the right to write. - kuroren23

* * *

**WINTERLANCE**

**Soul**

Days flew by…melting hour by hour until it bled into weeks. The mission that should have taken no more than a fortnight has now lasted nearly a month and with no clear end in sight. The countless nights mocked him…taunting him with his absence beside the one that haunted his thoughts…forcing him to grind his teeth in frustration as he was asked to sit through just one more meeting, attend just one more conference and deal with just one other emergency.

His eyes traced the elaborate Adam molding on the ceiling and wondered if he would be forgiven if he destroyed it with one swift arc of his scythe hand. The exquisite design did not comfort him but rather slapped his face with the bitter truth of failure. He got caught. Here he was—trapped in the web of machinations created by his cunning blood-relatives.

Irritated with the onslaught of disappointment and unease, he shoved the heavy silk duvet aside, letting the costly fabric to cascade to the floor heedlessly. He strode in all his naked glory towards the French doors and threw them open to welcome the frigid morning breeze. He braced himself for the bite of the cold wind and was grateful when the icy gusts blew away most of the burgeoning fire of restlessness and anxiety eating at him.

_**Maka…**_

Her name came to his mind unbidden, the image of her coming to him as natural as drawing his breath. He missed the quiet security she brought to him. The comfortable sense of right that has been so integral to their relationship mocked him as he realized that until now he has never done without her for so long. There has never been a time when Maka wasn't at arms length. Wasn't beside him, next to him or inside his Soul-room.

**Kekeke…aren't you a pathetic whiny baby...**

_Gods of the Furies, just what I need. You have a death wish you freak? Can't you even tell I'm not in the mood?_

Soul closed his eyes and willed himself to be patient. When next he opened his eyes—he did so metaphorically—inside the crimson and onyx music room where he kept his nasty little tenant. He pinned the grinning midget with a fierce look from his blood-red eyes and followed the look through by manifesting obsidian chains to hang the impertinent laughing imp.

**Kekekeke. DO I look like I care Soul? I'm just—hanging around. Kekekekekeke!**

_Nasty beast. Can't you think of something else to do other than piss me off?_

**Why should I do something boring like that? Your family seems to be doing a bang-up job of giving you your daily dose of annoyance. Better watch your cholesterol kid; I don't want you keeling over too early on me.**

_Wouldn't do to oblige you, you rotten snake. Now just go and die in some corner of this place and leave me alone. I'm already exasperated with my nauseatingly morbid clan. I don't need another headache to come take residence in my head._

**I'm no common headache boos-kid. After all, no one else could be as stylish as me.**

_Tell me again why I haven't killed you yet?_

**That's because fortunately for my Imp-hide, I am part of you Boss.**

_Oh right._

Soul gave the chains a brief flick, allowing it to vibrate until the imp bopped up and down like a string being expertly manipulated to a fine vibrato. A smirk painted Soul's lips when he noticed the imp's eyes swirling. With another soft touch the string calmed as if it had never been plucked.

**That was mean Soul-kun. **

_You should be thankful I didn't leave you here to bob around like a metronome for days._

**Ugh. You never know. I might get sick all over your naked feet.**

_Do that and I will use your sinew for sings in my piano._

**Not that I'd mind seeing how you'll do that. By the way, Boss, you're not aiming to seduce me or nothin' like that right? Cause I don't mind telling you I really don't care for seeing you in all your bare glory. You ain't my type, see.**

_Gods, you're a disgusting thing. I should've just let Maka obliterate you from my soul when she found you. I must have been drunk when I told her I could handle you._

**Now, now, you know that you could do that with one hand tied behind your back. Besides, you wouldn't be so cruel. The pigtail girl wouldn't like that.**

The mention of his technician wiped clean the faint beginnings of relaxation from Soul's mind and body. He grabbed the smirking imp and snarled.

_I don't remember giving you permission to mention her Imp. If you want to continue this cushy set up inside my demented brain—you better remember a few house rules, you hear me?_

**Like I can help it. Ah—Soul-kun, you're strangling me here.**

_Oh am I? That's good then. The better to jog your memory with Imp. You do not mention my technician, you do not call her name, you do not entertain the notion of even thinking about her. Are we making headway yet Imp?_

**Well were making something. With my head no less. Go on then Boss.**

_My technician is terra incognita do you understand me Imp? If there ever was anything you sanctified in your life—make it her. You do anything to bring her harm or jeopardize her in any way and I would rip my own soul out just so that I can beat you out of it. Are we clear?_

**You said it Boss. Will do. But while were on the subject, I thought I should tell you that as of now, your sacred technician is slowly unraveling somewhere in Shibusen. I applaud the genius that made you give her that bauble but I am telling you that whatever magic our blood had is waning. Tick-tock Boss. Tick-tock.**

And with that the Imp vanished from his grip and Soul found himself inside his room once again. The words the imp spoke last came back to him in a rush and it was to the sound of his fist crashing into the walls that the rest of the household work up to. For the rest of the day, he walked around like someone possessed. The lambent fury in his gaze made even the staunchest stock holder and intrepid director back away and leave him blissfully alone for the day.

**

Soul once again stood in front of a pair of French Doors. Though the same type, the view this time is far more compelling that the generic skyline. The view from the study is one as familiar as any of his memories of his old life. The magnificent cedar and oaks standing at the outer perimeter of the estate, weaving through the thick midmorning fog like silent sentinels…the ancient magnolia trees with their shimmering waxy leaves heavy with pure white blooms kissed by dew. It was a sight poignant enough to bring a stab of melancholy through his heart and once again he wished he could have returned under more auspicious times—even if he hadn't really planned on ever coming home. The sight, smell and sensation of coming back would've been a lot more tolerable had he been accompanied by someone whose smile could outshine the Austrian crystal chandeliers and whose green eyes would shame the most beautiful of magnolias.

But the reality was far harsher than his dreams. The Evans was scrambling to gain a toe-hold in his life—desperate to drag him back—kicking—into the prison he managed to escape once before.

"Soul dear? Are you here?"

The sweet cloying tones wiped the faintest hint of peace in his heart. It grated on his ears and yet he could not pinpoint exactly what it is about the Southern gentlewoman that rubbed him the wrong way. That she was genteel, soft spoken and solicitous in her ways should please him. That she hung on to his every word and recognized his strength and natural right to lead as a man should soothe his often maligned masculinity but for all her simpering sweetness all that he could muster for his erstwhile would-be fiancée was a strange sense of pity and wariness.

"Why, whatever are you doing here?"

Trying to get the hell away from all of you.

The words remained unuttered. His lips remained firmly pursed into a faint disapproving line. He tried as much as he could to control his stringent, caustic tongue because he was well aware that the young woman that stood before him carrying a silver tray laden with tea was as much a victim as he was. A pawn in the ever growing tangled skein of manipulations conducted by his family.

"Doing what I was hired to. Attending to business."

"But my dear sir! There is a time for work and surely a time for life's little pleasures? Come and have tea. You mustn't neglect yourself."

The words gave him pause. It was a bitter-sweet reminder of another voice…another face that often said the same words. The memory of those words passing from another's lips made him growl in frustration and pain.

"My life is no concern of yours Madam."

"Ah didn't mean to intrude, sir. Ah only meant to give you some sustenance since Madame mentioned that you have not made an appearance at the breakfast table. Ah apologize if Ah have caused offense sir."

"No. It is I who must apologize. Forgive me—I did not mean to insult your kindness. I am afraid I am not fit for polite company Madam. If you would excuse me—"

"Oh! Ah do not mind, sir. Ah would be ever so grateful if you would share a cup with me. Would that be an imposition sir?"

Soul stared at the imploring look on the young woman and sighed. Sometimes he wished Maka hadn't drilled courtesy into him. He wouldn't have been coerced if he didn't mind offending this naïve child. With a grudging nod, he settled into one of the elegant armchairs near the coffee table and allowed Victoria to pour him a cup. With his eyes trained once more on the scene outside, he missed the quick cunning smile that came and went on a pair of plump pink lips.


End file.
